Admissions
by MalibuSwede
Summary: An effort to fill in the gaps left so glaringly open towards the end of S4 (and jaw-droppingly disregarded in S5). Outside forces are at work, gnawing at the bond between Joey and Pacey. How P&J make it to that glorious series finale. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: Je t'aime

_NOTE: This story is part of a longer piece I did on PoTL called "The Wanting", which originally began as a "sex-ercise" to fill in the time between episodes 405 and 414. Somewhere around the third chapter, however, it began developing into a more serious piece._

_I always wondered how readers would respond if they didn't have that initial setup—which, admittedly, was fun for some and not others. This is the test. This is the "R" rated version._

_Disclaimer: I did not create nor do I own the characters of Dawson's Creek. Dialogue from actual episodes has been quoted here; I don't own that either._

**ADMISSIONS**

CHAPTER ONE

"Je t'aime" 

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_I remember everything. _

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Worthington! You got in!" the boy kept shouting as he twirled the girl around the school hallway. She was getting dizzy and pretty sure she was about to annihilate someone with her long legs as they careened through the air. But she was so happy she just couldn't let go. Worthington College, her number one choice, had accepted her. This doesn't seem real, she thought. Things like this just don't happen to me.

"Come on," the boy said as he put her down; she had to adjust to her land legs first. "Where are we going? We still have 6th period." "With all due respect to Mr. Ringler's history class, today is about the future—your future," he said. He knew that she needed to read that letter for herself, she needed to see her future confirmed on a typewritten page.

So for the second time in her academic career, Miss Fourth in Her Class allowed Mr. Slacker No More to convince her to cut school. There was a brief stop, however, in the ubiquitous boiler room where the couple enjoyed a brief celebratory make-out session before going home. Why the boiler room only they knew—maybe they were acting out another fantasy—because everyone at school was used to seeing them make out in the halls. No one even bothered to yell out "Get a room" anymore.

"How do you do that?" the boy asked as he stared intently into his lover's eyes. "What?" "How do you manage to glow like that?" "Guess I took an extra Good Mood Pill this morning," she said as a wide, beaming grin crept across her face. She drew him into a patented, tingling-from-head-to-toe kiss. Now he radiated as well.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The revelry was premature after all. Joey's euphoria came to a blistering end a couple of days letter when a letter arrived from the Financial Aid office telling her that, as far as she was concerned, she wasn't going anywhere. Certainly not to Worthington. She knew that the only way a girl from the wrong side of the creek could enter the Ivy League was with a full financial package—but the pencil pushers didn't see it that way. Their offer was $15,000 shy of the mark. So that was it, she wasn't going.

Someone forgot to tell the guests outside who had come to celebrate Joey's victory that Saturday, and she was too proud to tell them otherwise. Pacey's heart broke as he watched her quietly accept everyone's congratulations knowing that every single pat on the back felt more like a knife. When the Leerys came over to give Dawson his acceptance package from USC, he was sure she felt the knives twist; she fled the scene without anyone except he and Bodi noticing. He wanted to run to her, comfort her, but knew she needed time to collect herself.

It was Dawson who walked in on her breakdown. Even then she resisted telling him, wanting him to have his moment while she kept the humiliation of her brief over-confidence private. But he prodded her until she finally blurted out the truth: the scholarship had been a pipedream, her financial package had come up short and she wasn't entering Worthington's hallowed halls after all.

"Jo, it's just money. There's got to be a way around this," he said with typical optimism. "You can't let it stop you from achieving something you've worked this hard for." This was her "soulmate" telling her this, right? After all these years…after all they had been through together…after witnessing _for himself_ the ways in which he was treated differently from his "best friend", Dawson still didn't understand that there was no such thing as JUST money in Joey Potter's world. Money kept her in her place and Dawson Leery safely ensconced in his white middle-class utopia.

Money was the dividing line between Capeside alumnus and Worthington elite, and once again it had been thrown back into Joey's face. Mrs. Valentine, who always treated Joey like poor white trash whom she allowed to work at the Yacht Club out of the kindness of her heart, would love that comeuppance.

Dawson had that look on his face. The look that announced a light bulb had just turned on. Uh oh. "I want you to have Mr. Brooks' money," he said. "Are you insane?" "Look, I know you're going to say no, and that's fine, but don't say no until you've at least considered the possibility." To him, it was as simple as that. There _was_ an "easy answer"—all she had to do was to accept his offer, say yes.

What Joey hated to admit was that she did seriously consider it. It was, seemingly, a simple solution. Why should she fight it? But it just didn't feel right. Despite Dawson's protestations to the contrary, she knew that there was no debt without obligation, and she would feel obligated to him. That was no way to start off her college career and, even more important, it wasn't fair to Pacey. She was not going to scare up those ghosts again.

She said no. But Dawson went around her, trying to use Pacey to convince her to change her mind. Feeling somehow responsible for her predicament—how that was possible was never explained—Pacey agreed to talk to her. He understood her world better than anyone. He could see the fork in the road even if she didn't—or perhaps she refused to. Sooner or later, he was going to have to let her go.

Acceptance at Worthington made it sooner, denial of full financial aid indicated later; neither option made him very happy. Was he now standing in her way, preventing her from moving on? Joey & Pacey's relationship had always been about allowing each other to grow, but lately they both seemed to be floundering. They had been so focused on their epic sexual journey that they had neglected Reality with a capitol "R". And the reality was she was leaving… and he would probably stay.

If she decided to defer college for a year and declare herself financially independent would that really make a difference in their relationship? Would she have even considered that option a year ago—_before_ she risked everything to be with him? With the stakes this important, how could he ask her to risk everything again?

**zzzzz**

"_Promise me one thing….That if the day ever come when you did feel like I was holding you back, promise me you'll cut me loose, yeah?" _

"_Pacey, I won't promise you that. You're asking me to promise to let you go; I can't do that."_

**zzzzz**

I don't deserve Pacey's love; he's been thinking only of me in this and I can see it's killing him. And I don't deserve Dawson's generosity. I believe his intentions are honorable but, being Dawson, he can't resist the opportunity to rush in and fix something Pacey can't. At least I had the guts to tell him he was no longer the most important person in my life. My actions should have shown him that already, but he still needed to hear it from my lips. I'm not _his_ Joey Potter anymore and I haven't been for a long time.

"Is this going to be weird? My accepting money from Dawson?" Pacey and I were cuddled in bed. We had spent most of the evening comforting each other, assuring each other that as much as things were bound to change, our love remained steadfast. It was eternal. I love him with my heart and soul and every part of my body—I actually told him that. Little Joey Potter would've thought that was corny, but this one believes the Witter boy is my anchor and my shield. I can't imagine living without him.

I turned to face him. I looked into those blue-hazel eyes flecked with green and found myself falling again. I know now what it means to really fall in love. Because it happens every time he looks at me…or touches me…every time we make love. I can feel myself tumbling, falling. I touched his cheek and he brought my hand to his lips, gently kissing my fingers and palm with a series of sweet little nips. I couldn't resist sampling that mouth again for myself. My lips brushed against his as my nostrils drew in the scent of his musky cologne and our mutual moans danced around each other.

Then I remembered that he still hadn't answered my question. I slowly pulled myself away and instantly ached for that loss of contact. "Is this okay? Are you going to be okay with this?"

"Jo, you are going to Worthington. Period. End of discussion. And if accepting Dawson's money is the only thing that can make that happen…then I say, thank God and thank the man. And move on."

"I can't help think that…"

"He means well, Jo."

"I know he does. But, at the same time, it feels like another manipulation. It's not the first time he's given me money." Pacey looked perplexed, and I knew that I had better explain everything—fast. "Sophomore year. He won that prize for _Sea Creature from the Deep_, remember? And when he found out that I couldn't work with him on his next project, he offered me half the prize money."

"Half? He didn't offer the Sea Creature anything! I need to get a better agent," Pacey responded cheerfully. All glibness aside, I thanked God that my man was one to roll with the punches. Although sometimes I kinda liked the jealous thing.

"Well…" I started to say as I pulled myself closer to him, mixing my legs with his. "Producers do get to partake in the profits. But the more I thought about it, the more it felt like Dawson's effort to retain his position as the 'most important person' in my universe. He wanted me to be able to buy some art supplies, so I did—for both Jack and I—and then I returned the rest to him. I put a money order for $1000 in a thank you note I made and taped it to a tin of chocolate chip cookies."

"You never baked _me_ chocolate chip cookies," Pacey chided.

"Because I feared that it would stand between us and your afternoon craving for Count Chockula!" I answered light-heartedly. He slid our entwined hands around and across the small of my back. My body tingled. I kissed his chest, massaging his pecs with my remaining free hand. "Some might call _this_ a manipulation," I whispered seductively in his ear.

"And this?" he responded, as he rolled on top of me and slid his body up and down mine. I could feel his arousal—as massive and potent as my own.

"Pace, I just want you to know that no matter what Dawson does, you are and always will be the most important person in my life. I love you."

"I love you, too, Miss Potter." "Miss?" "Josephine," he growled as he planted sensual, mind-bending kisses down my neck and across my breasts. My nipples hardened and I began to quiver. That's what he does to me.

"How about this, Josephine. Would you call _this_ a manipulation?" he countered, bringing down the register of his voice to a soft bass. "No…" "No?" he growled again, moving his hand between my legs, teasing me with his charmed fingertips. I was excited beyond mere pleasure. "Definitely not," I insisted rather meekly, my breath hitching on every searching movement of his fingers.

"I should give the money back," I said as I consciously moved against his hand. "Why?" "Because I would much rather do this than go to Worthington."

"Can't you do both?" he asked as his lips seared a path down my stomach. He massaged my navel with his tongue while his other hand caressed my hip. I forgot what we were talking about. "What?" "Can't you do this and go to Worthington?" he reminded me, kissing the last bit of flesh above my curly mound of hair. I instinctively arched my body to greet him. Each kiss sending high-voltage electric jolts straight to my heart.

"Yes, yes," I moaned as I gave myself completely to him. Because he loves me.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Two hearts were on fire, neither one saved from the precipitous fall; two pairs of hands and two beating hearts linked as their owners tumbled willingly, eagerly, gratefully. They made love until dawn—a reawakening that was heralded not by a rooster and the sun, but by an alarm clock and the boy's morning hard-on. It was the time when both of them felt recharged like Energizer bunnies. She was getting used to it by now, the best part of her morning in her estimation.

"I should go," the girl said, cupping the boy's face in her hands and kissing him sweetly on the lips. "Dear Juliet, it is not yet near morn," he said, pulling her back to him for another rapturous kiss. "'Tis the nightingale and not the lark that sings so out of tune." "Me thinks it is the tape machine on low batteries," she retorted. He laughed as he wrapped a blanket around them. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. She was addicted to this feeling of comfort and peace, the warmth of his body against hers, the warmth of her love combined with his. The feeling of oneness.

She listened to the quiet rattle of his sleep. Next to his growls and groans, she thought, it was the sweetest sound of all.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It was not yet near noon, when _my_ day begins, but the scent of my Juliet has invaded every pore of my body. She is in my pillow, in the blanket, in the air around me, in every breath that I breathe. And she smells like…vanilla. It is the sweet smell of home. I meant what I told her last night, she _is_ my home.

I know I'm not good enough for her. If I hadn't selfishly dominated her time, no doubt she would have applied for those scholarships or grants that would have made the difference. She would have made it to Worthington on her own instead of beholding herself, once again, to Dawson Leery. He offered her the solution I could not, and _she _feels guilty about it; she feels guilty about her success.

How did we get here? One moment we were mortal enemies, the next I found myself attracted to this girl, my sparring partner, as I watched her changing from the vantage point of my rear-view mirror. I kissed her that night, but she was only thinking of him. This feisty, vulnerable, intelligent, funny girl had eyes for someone else, and that was okay. At least I got the chance to look behind the mask and see what Dawson had always seen: that she was like us, only prettier and smarter. The tough girl façade just made her more intriguing. Her weapon was sarcasm, mine was wit.

I think part of the reason I was so pissed off at Dawson when they first got together was that I wanted her just as badly; I had wanted her first. But I had to forget that—so I did, with Andie. For the better part of the next year, I forgot all about Joey Potter. Yes, we saw each other, but mostly because she and Andie had become friends.

I wasn't thinking of her at all when I held her hand and comforted her as she watched the family restaurant burn to the ground. I wasn't thinking of her at all when I couldn't forgive Andie for being confused and making a mistake when she was alone in that hospital. I wasn't thinking of her at all when I made that casual sex pact with Jen—and then couldn't go through with it.

When did I fall in love? It was the first time she smiled at _me,_ not him. I was a goner then. I was so sure she wouldn't consider a dork like me. Why should she? I was going nowhere and she's headed to the stratosphere. But, much to my eternal gratitude, she did—and I will always be thankful for this time I've been allowed to spend with her. She always says that I surprise her, but her love is the most amazing thing of all.

She is only going to be gone for the day and I miss her already. And then the next Tuesday is Senior Ditch Day; she and Jen will be gone overnight. No nookie. But, more important, no closeness…no hugs. That girl has a way of pulling herself into an embrace that is the sexiest, most endearing thing I think I've ever experienced. Her body envelopes mine with its warmth, and it's a sensation that I can never get enough of.

That smell is wafting through my nostrils again. Wait a minute… That's not my imagination, something's up. I've got to check this out!

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The boy appeared frozen in the doorway, unable to move. On the table in front of him was a large popcorn tin. The lid was off, revealing dozens of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. In his hand was a homemade card, the cover of which was a drawing of their wall with the words _"Ask Me To Stay"._ That alone wasn't what left him dumbfounded. It was her message:

_"I know you think you're make this great sacrifice by insisting that I go with Jen to New York—but you don't have to, you dope. I would gladly stay at home. Today, tomorrow, always._

_"I told you that I wasn't going anywhere without you and I meant it. I want to be with you. And if that means Boston University instead of Worthington, then so be it._

"_I love you."_

What am I going to do, he thought. How could I ever leave this girl? How could I let her leave me? He looked at the container of cookies. But I am not going to think about that now. Right now, I am going to enjoy myself. I am going to consume every cookie in this tin. She baked them for me.

Because she loves me.


	2. Chapter 2: Clueless

CHAPTER TWO   
"Clueless" 

Pacey sat at his desk enrapt by the test pages in front of him. Chemistry. Not his favorite subject—but then what was? Most of the test was multiple choice so he had a one in four chance of guessing the correct answers, and Joey had clued him in on what to expect from the few questions he'd have to write out more detailed answers. She wouldn't do his work for him though. "You're the one taking the test. You have to figure it out yourself," she encouraged him. That he could do. It just took longer.

His pencil broke. He'd been pressing so hard on the paper that he could read his answers three sheets below. He motioned for permission to get up and sharpen his pencil. Mr. Patterson nodded. As he walked to the front of the classroom, however, Pacey was thinking of anything but Chemistry.

**zzzzz**

_I remember everything. _

**zzzzz**

The boy and the girl loved celebrating anniversaries, and they found many occasions to celebrate. There was the first kiss, though neither could remember exactly when that was so they chose a date in between her birthday and his. There was the second kiss, followed by the third and fourth—a very happy ten days. And there was the first time they made love, which they were now celebrating on a weekly basis.

To make the one-month mark something special, the boy had an idea. He had run into their former dance instructor at Screen Play Videos and she had again offered free tango lessons. With their recent extracurricular activities being mostly indoors, he thought it might be fun to get out and celebrate.

He talked the girl into wearing something especially pretty. "Something sexy," he tried to suggest somewhat lasciviously, but he had a hard time keeping a straight face. She thought he was springing for dinner and had dressed accordingly in a lovely burgundy silk dress Jen had found for her on one of their shopping sprees. Classic but not too elegant with a vintage '50s look to it, the dress was cut to show just enough leg and, more impressive, featured a discreet but provocative neckline covered by a layer of sheer chiffon. She had fixed her hair with soft, curly tendrils cascading down the sides of her face. In other words, she took his breath away.

"Hey handsome!" the girl said admiringly as he arrived to pick her up. This time it was her turn to be impressed. The boy had put on his best suit, accented by the blue silk tie she gave him for Christmas—even better than that, no sneakers; he wore shiny new Oxfords. "Hello yourself," he smiled graciously. "Ready to go?" "Are you going to tell me where?" she said as she kissed him on the cheek. He turned the other cheek and she kissed him there as well. "Not yet," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

When the Wagoneer pulled up in front of the dance studio, the girl assumed they were going to the pizza parlor next door. "Italian to go?" she asked, a bit disappointed. "No, the Latin dance of love." "What?" "I signed us up for tango lessons." "I thought ballroom dancing was high on your list of most embarrassing things not to share with the rest of Capeside," the girl noted.

"I thought it would be fun," he said as he opened the door for her and took her hand. "And I don't care about being cool anymore, not when I'm with you."

He twirled her around and did a dip. That was easy enough. She laughed as he pulled her back up into his embrace. "Not bad, Mister Man," she said, kissing him on the neck just under his ear. He pouted and tapped his index finger on his lips. She kissed him full on the lips in front of Miss Penny Pretty. "Mmm hmm," the dance instructor commented knowingly as she walked past them. "Okay, people. Grab your partners, it's tango time!" Then an aside to the young couple, "I see you two have finally worked things out."

Well, almost. The boy and girl got the positioning of hands right, they got the ribcage thing right…but somehow they could never work out the foot thing. Two people, four feet, 20 bruised toes…and they had never had so much good old-fashioned fun in their lives. What made it even funnier what that, for once, she was the clumsy one stepping on most of the toes. They laughed until their bellies hurt. After class, they grabbed a piece of pizza and walk around the bayfront park still giddy.

They danced up the steps of his front porch. He lowered her into another dip. "I _love_ this part!" the boy enthused. She looked at him with a dizzying, darkening sense of desire. He started to bring her up, but lost himself in the neckline of her dress, pulling back the chiffon layer and kissing her passionately between her breasts.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Pacey was having a hard time concentrating on his test. Science was the first of three advance tests he was taking this week. He'd been given the opportunity to test out of the rest of his junior make-good classes so that he didn't have to deal with those classes during finals time—a few short weeks away.

Finally, a break. He was three-quarters of the way through his Chem quiz, but couldn't focus on it. All he could think about was Joey…

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"What time is Gretchen coming home?" she asked. "In about fifteen minutes." "First dibs on the bedroom!" Joey said as she ran inside. It wasn't long before the Posture-pedic bedsprings were squeaking again. Almost as if on cue, Gretchen arrived home ready for a hot shower and bed. But her door was locked. It was no time to be cute or even polite, she thought as she knocked on the door forcefully. "Come on, Pace! I've had a hard day." She could hear him mutter something, obviously not to her, and she heard Joey giggling like a little girl. She knocked again. "Go away!" Pacey responded with equal determination.

This was not the bargain, Gretchen brooded. This brother-sister arrangement just isn't working. I pay the rent, buy the groceries…and lately he's been getting the bed more often than me. In fact, the way things are going, he's going to see more action in that bed than I ever will! Worse than that, with the girl that _my_ boyfriend would prefer sleeping with! You gotta love the irony in that.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey was on a subway from Columbus Circle to Greenwich Village with Jen. Normally, she would have been fascinated with all the sights and colors and smells she was experiencing of this big city, but all she could think about was Pacey. Why didn't he ask her to stay home? She had wanted him to and was sure that he would, especially after the last night they spent "studying". She would have preferred seeing New York for the first time with him. She knew he would love it. The city was a living, breathing entity—clashes of culture that still managed to exist side by side. They would have to come back here during Fall break when Central Park put on its autumnal show.

Maybe I'm the one moving things too fast now, she considered. He's probably feeling overwhelmed. Her guy had been studying like crazy for his first round of exams, and she'd been coming over after work to help out, patiently tutoring him through Jr Science, History and English. She smiled as she thought about them cuddled together on Gretchen's bed with his books and papers spread out in front of them. It was Joey's turn to run the Q&A, and for each correct answer she rewarded him with her latest salsa and chip creation.

"I don't know why you even bother with me," he said only half jokingly. "I'm a hopeless cause." "Well, you're not my 'cause' and it's far from hopeless," she nudged him. "I know somewhere under there, there's a rocket scientist waiting to come out." "Yeah, sure." "Pace, don't you ever put yourself down in front of me again," she said with surprising conviction. "You are not stupid. You just don't think inside the box and most schools don't know how to handle students like you. You're more eloquent and insightful than anyone I know. I mean, who reads _The Canterbury Tales_ when they're ten?"

"It was the Modern English translation and Doug told me it was a kid's book about blood-thirsty warlords, cool knights and damsels in distress," he retorted. "Besides, I liked the pictures." "You, Mr. Witter, will end up ruling the world someday, you'll see…We just need to channel you into the mainstream for a little bit. Now what is the chemical sign for iron?"

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey Potter's rewards system evolved from salsa to lips—which was kind of fun when he thought about it. A kiss for every right answer, an ear tug for every wrong one (thankfully, there wasn't much of that). Five correct answers in a row and Pacey was rewarded with much more than a kiss. They passed second base long before they finished History.

She rolled on top of him, moving her sleek naked body against his, her long silken hair floating in the air. She was a luminous fantasy figure, a dream girl suspended in animation for all eternity…

"Mr. Witter. Mr. Witter! Welcome back. Do you need a new pencil?" Pacey was finishing his second test, a task that would be far easier with an unbroken piece of lead. He had one more quiz to go at the end of the week, and then a few short days of freedom before finals. I just may take Drue up on his offer, Pacey thought. I need to let off some steam and I could really use a drink.

**zzzzz**

_I remember everything. _

**zzzzz**

Joey returned from New York early in the AM Wednesday morning. It had been an interesting trip, to say the least; exhilarating and poignant at the same time. Jen was in such a state of melancholy. Joey couldn't get over the look on her face as Mr. Lindley, Jen's dad, was explaining what he found so seductive about living in the city. His very explanation had been such a turn-on that Joey found herself wishing Pacey were somewhere nearby so they could steal a few minutes in the coatroom. Jen caught that look on her face; Joey was embarrassed, but quickly got over it when she saw how heartbreakingly sad Jen had become.

There was something unspoken lurking there and as much as Joey had tried to get her to talk about it, Jen would not. They separated for a few hours; Jen went back uptown, Joey hung out in the Village. I've got to tell Pacey about this place, she thought as she walked around Bleecker Street. In Washington Square Park, she watched a young couple playing with their dog. He was obviously an artist, the splattered overalls being a dead give-away, and she looked like she was a year or two out of college; she had the grooming of a career girl with a splash of the avant-garde. They looked so happy. This could be us, Joey thought as a smile returned to her face. It kept her smiling all of the way home.

Jen dropped her off at Pacey and Gretchen's but, strangely enough, no one was home at this early hour—not even Gretchen. Joey let herself in and called Bess to tell her she was home and that she was waiting for Pacey. "You haven't heard from him, have you?" she asked. She was anxious to tell him all about the Big Apple and have him model the shirt she'd bought for him, something like the Hawaiian shirts he'd become fond of since their trip. This shirt featured the New York skyline instead. She also bought him a Mets cap. Inside joke—she was going to tell him tryouts were starting next week.

Disappointed that she would have to wait a little while longer, Joey laid down on the couch, which for all intents and purposes was Pacey's bed most days of the week. She cuddled up with a pillow, thinking about what was in store for them next year. She'd been hoping that Pacey would consider moving to Boston. Then instead of moving into a dorm, she could split the rent with him. They could live like two happy poor people, existing on nothing but love. She did the typical girly-girl thing of musing about her married name. Joey Witter, okay. Josephine Witter, that's better. Mr. and Mrs. Pacey J. Witter, best of all. Josephine and Pacey Witter.

She fell asleep dreaming about their future together.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Drue watched Pacey observing a biker couple battling it out in the passageway of the dive they'd ended the evening in. It was their third bar and this one was the worst yet. No college girls here, just a bunch of losers. But Pacey seemed fascinated with this girl. She didn't look like the usual biker chick and her vocabulary made that assessment a certainty. She pounded the guy with her fists, clearly irritated he was too drunk to get them home. But when he threatened to leave with friends, she pulled him back to her. "You're not going anywhere without me," she said. "Ah, Ally…" he started to say before she tackled him with a kiss.

"It must be strange to be 18 and see your whole life already laid out in front of you," Drue piped in. "Granted, Joey will never be like this chick; her life is far too regimented. But she is going to be the meal ticket…" Pacey turned his head back to face him. A half dozen boilermakers clearly hadn't dimmed his perception of the future. He looked hurt, angry, threatened. "And this leaves you where exactly?" Drue zapped him. Pacey threw a punch and missed, losing his balance and flying into the table next to him.

"Watch it, punk!" the table's occupant declared. "Or what, Popeye? You'll toss me out?" "Not before you get the beating of your life," the lug responded. Then both he and his mate began pummeling Pacey, kicking him before he could even stand up and defend himself. Drue jumped in and punched the one with the bulging biceps; he got matching black eyes for that.

"Brawl!" someone yelled. The bartender grabbed a bat. A chair was thrown his way and all hell broke lose. By the time the cops responded ten minutes later, things had pretty much quieted down. Pacey, Drue and Popeye were all under restraint. Pacey winced as he was put in the back of the police car. He had a gash on his forehead, swollen knuckles and several bruised ribs. He was sure that he would not be offered much comfort that night.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey woke up late in the morning. She was late for school, but that didn't seem to matter right now. What concerned her more was what had happened to everyone? She was worried. She got dressed and dashed to school—but there was no sign of Pacey there, either. And Dawson was gone as well. She was starting to panic until she heard from Gale Leery that Dawson and Gretchen had been stranded somewhere in Maine but were on their way back now. That was two out of three. Still no word about Pacey. Doug wasn't at the police station and all Sheriff Witter would tell her was that he had an out-of-town pickup.

Everyone was being so mysterious. Or maybe it was just her. Maybe she was over-reacting. She had been feeling a bit anxious lately, mentally and physically. She was afraid that some of her desperation was rubbing off on Pacey, that she was the one unsettling him with all her needs and desires—just as she feared. If she didn't know better, she would say she was PMS-ing. Oh shit. She was supposed to get her period on Monday. She'd totally spaced out.

What if…

Shit.


	3. Chapter 3: Lost

CHAPTER THREE

"Lost"

It wasn't what she said as much as the way she said it, the urgent tone in her voice. "Joey needs to talk to you…as soon as possible." "Why? What's up, Gretch?" Nothing. "Did something happen in New York? Is she okay?" "Just call her, Pace. She should be the one telling you."

Now she's really got me worried. I mean, what could Joey have to say that can't wait until I get back tomorrow night? Of course, she doesn't _know_ I'm going to be back tomorrow. There was no happy note greeting her when she and Jen returned from the big city. I left kinda suddenly—didn't have much choice, actually. Five minutes after he dropped me off, Doug was back at my door announcing "You're coming with me." "The hell I am," I said, refusing to move from the couch. "Pop's got it all arranged," he explained as he tossed some clothes in my duffel bag. "We're going to the cabin."

Like I said, didn't have much choice. Now I'm cursing the day I left as well as the day I let Joey leave me—why didn't I ask her to stay? I wanted to so many times. The words had formed on my lips…but I could barely utter them. I know she's capable of doing it, but I wanted her to fly on her own this time…get a feel for life outside Capeside…and I knew Jen was the Aldous Huxley to show her that brave new world. (Don't blame me, I had to read it in my Lit class this year—one of them, I don't remember if it was Ms. Caswell or Señor Martinez.)

Damn. No one's answering at the B&B. That's surprising since they're usually booked on the weekend. I'll try one more time and then I'll have to beg Doug to either let me have the car or drive me back to the gas station to make another call. Yep, no one's home. "Hey, Dougie…"

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I don't usually insert myself into the little bro's melodramas, but this one couldn't be avoided. "Picked him up for drunk and disorderly. You know the drill," Sgt Lawrence told me. Damn if Pacey didn't try and pick another fight right there as he was being transferred from their squad car to mine! He was _daring_ someone to arrest him. My reaction was severe but I wanted to shake some sense into him. "You're not satisfied with being a moron and a failure? You've got to add 'drunk' to your list of credentials?"

That's when he got me. His hands were clinging to my jacket as if he were trying to shake some sense into _me._ "This is it for me," he screamed back. "This is my whole life right here! This is all I get." Man, he'd already hit rock bottom and I hadn't even noticed the slide. He nodded off on the drive home but never really settled down, even in his sleep.

I'd seen him drunk before, I'd seen him hurt and conflicted, I'd even seen him so mad at Pop that he threw a punch. I had never seen him this desperate. He wasn't just agitated, he was in a dark, dark place. I radioed Pop as soon as I dropped him off at Gretchen's. He took care of school, I took care of the rest.

"You can talk, not talk, I don't care," I told him as we headed north. "Consider this a vacation from the rest of your life." It took a day or so, but gradually Pacey did start to open up. He talked about school…and about Joey…but I realized after awhile it was mostly small talk. It didn't matter. Sooner or later I figured he would say what was on his mind.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The boy managed to talk his older brother into letting him drive back to the station to try and call the girl again. "After dinner, OK? It can wait until we eat, can't it? Pan-fried fish just isn't the same cold."

"I'm just worried, man. This isn't like her."

"So tell me, bro. What's going on here? You said 'things are just fine' between the two of you, right? So why the urgency?"

"I think we've both been feeling a little anxious lately."

"About sex?" The boy gave him a look. "Okay, not about sex. Or maybe more about sex than you know. You guys are being careful, aren't you?"

Another look. But this one had more of an instant realization quality to it. "Well, yes and no." "How can it be yes and no? It's either yes OR no."

"We use protection…most of the time. And now she's on the Pill so I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

"It always matters. Nothing's 100 percent. And she's young. Her body's changing, adjusting to these new developments. Don't be reckless or stupid."

_We've been making stupid mistakes, the boy admitted privately. She's as nervous about the future as I am. But would she be foolish enough to… He paused for a moment, he didn't even want to think it. Would she get pregnant just to keep things from changing too much? Now he really wanted to make that call._

"So is this what has been bothering you? You've entered this new phase of your relationship and aren't sure what the future holds?"

"I know what her future holds, mine isn't as clear."

"…and you've talked with her about it, right? Or is this another one of those secrets you hold back from the one person you care about the most?"

"She knows how I feel."

"Does she? Sounds to me like you guys have been ensconced in fantasy land for the better part of your senior year."

_Ah, but the Potter shaman wisely foretold our rocky road months ago. "This is where it gets rough," she said. "We spent three months on the sea, but we didn't even come close to weathering a storm. We ran away and made our own reality." _

_A hopeful fantasy that couldn't last forever. _

"_Nor should it. A relationship isn't about a romantic three-month cruise. It's gonna be the details that define us, you know... The moments." _

_But he had failed in the moment that mattered. Just like he had with Andie. He wasn't strong enough, smart enough. He wasn't the one who rescued her—her ex did._

_He's the one she's fated to be with, the boy considered. I'm just the Stanley Kowalski interlude._

"I fucked up." "It's not too late to fix it, bro."

_God, I love her. She made me actually believe that together we could pull it off. "Whatever it takes, we're gonna fix it," she promised. "Everything's gonna be okay." The boy wasn't so sure but she was impressive in her vehemence. "I'm not going anywhere without you," she vowed. _

_Determination. Drive. Ambition. Three of her sexiest qualities, he thought, and at that moment they were all focused on him._

"I'm just dragging her down."

"Somehow I don't think she sees it that way. You've got to talk to her and let her know how you feel."

_'How can I possibly tell her this?' he pondered. It had been hard enough to watch her fall in and out of love with other boys. 'Yet not half as difficult as the prospect of watching her fall out of love…with me.'_

"Give yourself a break, man. Be honest with her. But most of all, let yourself enjoy these last few weeks. You're graduating in June…"

"I'm not so sure about that."

"You will. I know you will. In the meantime, take that gorgeous girl of yours to the prom and savor these last few innocent days. Because, believe me, you'll miss them sooner than you think."

_Last few innocent days? Those days fled the minute we returned to Capeside. Everything has been a struggle since then. But he's right. She's earned a better time of it. OK. I'll give the fairytale a nice ending. My problems don't have to be hers. I can't promise more than that, but I can make it right…for her._

"I have to call her."

**zzzzz**

"_Who is that honest with people they're sexually attracted to?" she asked. "I mean, people can be friends, right? Best friends. But the minute sexual attraction comes into it, it's like all bets are off as far as honesty is concerned."_

"_So you don't think people can be both friends and lovers?" he said._

"_No, I do, I hope I do. But not at 18."_

**zzzzz**

We've been talking around the future for far too long. And now it's like the Alien that's landed smack dab in my face: the future is strangling me. My mom's future, Bessie's future…the past transformed into my future. Or is it? I'm too frightened to find out. Terrified to take that step to confirm or deny it. It's been nearly four days now and the only person I want to share this with is the one person I can't find: Pacey. I leave messages and no one calls back; apparently no one's seen him. Another anxiety to add to the list.

I gotta tell ya, this is one wonder of the female mystique I could live without right now…and should have been able to if I hadn't been so monumentally stupid. But I had to test fate, didn't I, and see what the gods had in store for us. We did it on rare occasion but, yes, there were times when I didn't want him to use a condom; I wanted to feel all of him. I mean, I'm on the Pill now and our blood tests turned out okay—surely we didn't have to worry about that anymore, right? Yet my hormones are telling me otherwise. Something's up.

If sex is a big magnifying glass, I'm not so sure I like what I'm feeling right now. Because the thing that's haunting me most is that lie. _Why did I lie to Dawson about sleeping with Pacey? _ Somehow I think Pacey knew all along that I had not kept my promise, that I had been less than honest in the one moment it was most important, and he was all too easily forgiving. I love him for that…but I can't forgive myself. Hence my desperation of late, my need to hold on. The errors seem to compound themselves on a daily basis. Lies are beginning to define our relationship. Maybe they always did.

I should have told Dawson first—before he had time to ask The Question. I meant to, I really did. It was on the tip of my tongue before I deferred all reason to him. Why was I so concerned about upsetting him? He's not the important part of this equation, Pacey is. But…

I keep thinking back to the summer before last. The summer I threw away our relationship in a fit of adolescent anguish. I felt betrayed and I wanted him to feel as badly as I did. And, boy, I let him have it with both guns! It took months for both of us to recover from that. Frankly, I wouldn't have blamed him if he never spoke to me again. But I taunted him until he gave in; he loved me after all. Ironically, by the time he let himself feel that, I had already moved on…to Pacey. Talk about guilt!

I don't regret at all what happened when Pacey and I acknowledged our feelings for each other; I don't regret the moment when we decided to express our love in the most intimate way. Taking that step forward was perhaps the bravest thing I've ever done. But that doesn't mean I don't understand what Dawson's been going through, my part in causing his pain, and therefore my unfortunate need to minimize that pain as much as possible. Which bring us back to…

The Lie. Why did I do it? I knew The Question was coming. We had been dancing around it all night. The bigger part of me just wanted to walk away and let it be—it was, in fact, none of his business. But since the question was inevitable, it seemed logical to offer just enough to get him to back off. How do you tell the ex-boyfriend you once dreamed about losing your virginity to that he missed out because the love of your life is, in truth, his best friend and _he's_ the one you've given your heart and soul to? Oh, and, by the way, we had sex and it was great. Just thought you'd like to know. Thanks for coffee!

No, I had to get analyze body language and watch his eyes while he struggled to ask the question that obviously had been on his mind. I had to get lost in that look, Dawson's way of telegraphing that he knew and didn't want to hear it. I rationalized. I should be a goddamn lawyer! I told "the jury", in this case myself, that I didn't want to hurt him. But I've come to realize that the only person I was protecting here was myself.

Once upon a time, Dawson and I had been friends who confided everything in each other, and I mean _everything. _ Sexual attraction changed that. I look back and I see that we've been less than honest with each other—I guess I can only speak for myself in this—ever since we hit puberty. I've been selfish…and he's been rather purposefully oblivious.

When Pacey and I first got back from our trip, Dawson had been too nervous to ask the big question—and he admitted as much. He was so tentative with me that evening; I was frustrated. How do you jumpstart a friendship back into existence? Me? I broke my agreement with Pacey. In order to "ease his mind", I _volunteered_ the information that Pacey and I hadn't had sex; I immediately regretted that choice. Just because my virginity was still in tact, for the moment, didn't mean that I was offering it up to him. In sharing that bit of information, I had chosen Dawson's feelings over Pacey's. That was disrespectful. And a part me resented Dawson for his willingness to put me in that awkward position.

I didn't want to repeat that mistake again. That evening when Dawson and I ran into each other outside the movie theater and ended up having one of our all-night talk sessions, I had hoped that somewhere along the line he would recognize the truth without asking. Didn't he notice the ring I was wearing? The one I've worn ever since getting back from our senior trip? No, of course not. He had to ask—and I took the coward's way out; I yielded to the look. He still had that power over me. Hell and damnation!

I couldn't even look him in the eye after that, noting with disappointment that his sigh of relief was confirmation that I had been right: he wasn't ready to hear it. Yet as I walked away I knew I'd once again made everything worse by not forcing my deluded friend into seeing the truth. I love to make things more complicated, don't I? It's like my personal mission in life. Why couldn't I just turn around and blow him away?

**zzzzz**

_I remember everything. _

**zzzzz**

The lies continued. Pacey finally reached Joey late Saturday night and they too danced around the truth. She thought she'd had "a huge problem," she admitted, but she was wrong. "What kind of problem did you think you had?" "It's nothing that you should worry about," she insisted. "The important thing is that you focus on yourself. Where are you?"

"I told you, I'm fishing with Dougie. We're having the time of our lives out here. Caught a 90-pound marlin yesterday. We're living the high life, Jo, the high life. You and I got to get out here some time." He lied.

At least with Pacey, Joey could console herself that her avoidance of telling him the whole truth had been to protect him. Even after she took the pregnancy test and it turned out negative, she was dying to share her fears with him. But she could hear the distress in his voice. He was so horribly messed up that she couldn't bear to add to his burden. So she held back. "My love defines me," she reasoned, "not my mistakes." They needed to get through this rough patch …then she would tell him. She really would.

The next day, for the first time in ages, Joey attended church with Bessie and Bodi. Walking home after the service, she took a detour and found Pacey at home. "Pacey!" she proclaimed happily, jumping into his arms, surrounding him from head to toe.

He hugged her tightly as she planted passionate kisses all around his face. Suddenly, she pushed herself away from him. "When were you going to tell me you were home?" she asked. He didn't respond immediately; she shoved him again. "Relax, Jo, I just got back. And if you check the answering machine at the Potter B&B, I think you'll find a very warm and, if I do say so myself, very sweet message announcing as much." "Oh."

"Yes, oh." There was a pause as both looked deeply into one another's eyes, searching for answers. "I missed you, Pace." "I missed you." "No, I mean I _really _missed you," she said as she cloaked him in another bear hug. Why did this feel so awkward? "So? Tell me about your trip? How did everything go? Did you take pictures? Did you catch anything else? Where is it, by the way?" "Where is what?" "The 90 lb marlin." "Bad news to report, actually. The freezer broke down and everything spoiled."

So he's not going to tell me, she thought. Doesn't matter. At least he's back.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

After Pacey's return home, however, Joey couldn't help but notice that he had stopped touching her. While she longed for closeness, he continually put distance between them.

Case in point: Monday night. Joey came over to study; Pacey's make-up English exam was the next day. Nuzzling against him on the couch, she angled for intimacy but he rebuffed her at every turn. "Are you having your period?" she joked. He didn't think it was funny. Maybe he does know, she thought. Did Gretchen tell him about the scare?

She blew kisses on his neck, but the sweeter she was with him, the more Pacey seemed to push her away. Then the bombshell. "Jo, no offense, but I really am trying to study here. Do you mind? Can we call it a night?" This _really_ wasn't like him! "Do you want to go to bed?" she asked. Silence. "Do you want me to leave?" Deafening silence. Finally, Joey heard him mutter under his breath, "OK." She was too shocked to challenge him. Obviously, confrontation wouldn't do any good right now.

She packed up her books, put on her coat, kissed him on the cheek, and left. "See ya, Jo," he called after her belatedly but she was already out the door.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I can't do this anymore, Pacey thought. I can't do this to her. It hurts too much to be so close. In a few months she'll be gone and I will have nothing. Nothing. Worse, if we stay together I will continue to bring her down. It's tearing me up to see her so eager to move on, knowing that it can't include me. I have to stop this before I end up napalming us both in this crazy desire to stop the world from spinning. I have to say goodbye.

But then she looks at me with those eyes. I can see she's scared too—and I'm the one scaring her. _ I can't do this to her._ I can't wreck it for us both before graduation. Commencement? How about finality? "Can't we just be scared together?" she once asked. This time, the answer is a resounding "No." No more perfect boyfriend. I'm the second best…friend.

I knew she wouldn't be able to tell him the truth. And I felt bad for even thinking that she should. I knew she considered it a private moment and that our sex life was no one else's business. My desire to announce it to the world was as territorial as her need to protect our privacy was personal. And that was okay with me…until money entered the picture. Dawson's "gift" just proved that I was the one in the way; I was the one mucking things up.

I want her to be happy, but I think she needs to see that she made the wrong choice here. I've always known it. I tried to fool myself into believing that together we could make it happen…that I loved her enough to change the world. But I've been a dope. I have to concede that I can't give her what she needs, he can. When opposing worlds collide, there's always a loser. Ta dah! Guess who?

Pacey broke down and cried.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Miraculously, Pacey seemed like a changed man the next day. He took Joey to school and they walked in hand in hand, just like the beginning of their courtship. He even sent her off to her first class with a heart-warming, full on the mouth, his tongue teasing hers kiss. At lunch, they pushed their chairs together in the cafeteria and he fed off her plate. Joey was dying to have a serious talk with him, but reveled in the angst-free moment.

Tonight, she decided. It's my night off. The perfect time to tackle that subject of the future, if we must. No books to pretend to study, no cooking to please him. Just a nice moment alone between the two of us.

She showed up at Pacey's after dinner. He was camped in front of the television. First things first. "I think I owe you an apology," she said. "Geez, Joey. For what?" "I realize that the last few weeks have revolved mostly around me and my plans for next Fall. But I want you to know that I'm not so selfish that I don't recognize there's another person in this relationship —someone who I think is pretty scared right now."

She cozied up next to him and threw his arm around her shoulder. "Okay. So let's talk about the future, Pace. You and me. After graduation. What do you want to do?" "You know me, Potter. There's never been a plan. Not much for the Class Clown to do except join a circus, though the wages apparently stink, or become the local weatherman. Do you see me in an umbrella hat?"

"Not a good style for you, Witter. But you and me…that's something we could work on. Let's make a plan. Right here, right now. We could work here this summer, save up, maybe take a couple weeks off and go to Maine…" Sonofabitch! She didn't meant to say that. Doug's cabin is in Maine. But Pacey didn't react so she let it slide. "…or New York. I could quit CYC and we could both sign on as deck hands on an old geezer's yacht. Even better," she said, turning toward him, "we could go to Boston…look for jobs…and an apartment." Her hand caressed his cheek.

"An apartment?"

"Well, that was our agreement, right? We face this thing together. I mean, why do I have to spend all that money on a crummy dorm room shared with a complete stranger? I'd much rather get a job and split the rent on some squalid dive in the seediest part of town with you. You could find a job—a temporary one, not a career choice—and take the time to figure out what you really want to do. Enroll in extension classes, take a business course, sign on as an apprentice…whatever."

She had thought about this much more than he gave her credit for. It touched him to know that. He rewarded her with a kiss; he felt her whole body sigh in relief. She slowly drew herself in closer, culminating with one of those extraordinary embraces that always made him go weak…and that was it, he was lost in the moment. A moment when, once again, the subject of their impending future had been deflected. "I want to touch you, Pacey," she whispered as she began undressing him; he did not resist. "I need you." He felt her lips burning on his flesh, eager to find release. Every kiss seemed an urgent plea, _Please stay with me._ He relented and practically ripped off her jeans, straddling and mounting her right there on the couch.

"I love y…" He swallowed her declaration with an all-encompassing kiss of his own. He was numbed by the intensity of the pleasure and pain that coursed through his body as he thrust into her. He could hear her moaning in the background, repeating his name, but that had become almost secondary to his own lust. To his need to feel this mind-bending intimacy one more time. She dug her nails into his back and he groaned. Her breathing became prolonged, shallow exhalations against his chest. "Come on, baby," he grunted in her ear. "This is what you want, isn't it? Fuck." Did he say that? "Come on," he encouraged her, moving furiously, pushing hard, harder. She was making those little sounds. "That's it," he said. "Fuck me, baby." That definitely wasn't him. He bit her breast. "Paceeee…" she cried out. Her pitch increased with excitement and then fell suddenly to a low murmur. She began to shake. He did not let up as he pushed her to the very limit. He had never been so rough with her, and when they both reached orgasm they came violently, uncontrollably.

They collapsed on the couch, he on top of her, their jeans still wrapped around their ankles, both panting heavily, hard-earned sweat binding them together. Pacey was the first to awake from this sex-induced trance. He was afraid he had hurt her and brushed the hair back from Joey's face to make sure she was all right. Her eyes were still closed but opened when he touched her. How could she look so adoringly at him? He felt like a beast. He looked at the bite mark on her breast and knew he had been one.

He brushed his lips against her cheek. "Let's go to bed," he said. He got up, nervously pulling on his jeans and then taking her hand in his. She kicked off her jeans and let him lead her down the hall. He threw his arm around her and kissed her hair. "You still alive in there, Potter?" She smiled. "Yes," she said, resting her head against his chest. "I just need to wash up."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

He touched me, she mused as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed, the baby hairs decorating her hairline still damp. She was happy, relieved. He'd finally touched her again and he wasn't repulsed. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face. Of course, it was a bit more of a _Penthouse_ moment than I was expecting, she chuckled. She inspected the top of her hip where the buckle of her purse had dug into her skin. It was still tender, but not a major wound. Her left breast was throbbing, however, and she seemed surprised to find teeth marks there. She pressed a cold washcloth against her breast, numbing the flickering pain for a moment.

She was less surprised to discover her torn panties. That had been the animal in her succumbing to the animal in him, her lust matching his. And the heart-tugging sense of completeness she now felt more than made up for any fleeting embarrassment in that realization. She brushed her teeth, then grabbed one of his oversized shirts from the hook on the door.

Returning to the bedroom a few minutes later, Joey was surprised to find Pacey already sound asleep in bed…and mysteriously turned away from their usual sleeping position. She got in beside him and draped her body around his. "Goodnight, Pace," she said, planting a series of wet kisses along his shoulder. "I love you."

Pacey closed his ever-darkening eyes. He could feel her heat punishing his body. I love you, too, Potter, he thought. You're killing me.


	4. Chapter 4: Letting Go

CHAPTER FOUR

"Letting Go"

_He's gone. _

No one blamed Pacey. Least of all, Joey. Prom night was not the best time to air their relationship crisis, but anyone could see it had been a long time coming. And now Joey did, too. He had a meltdown in front of the entire Capeside senior class.

It began with a k.d. lang song. Joey and Dawson had been enjoying a dance together, a brief respite from the drama of late. Pacey walked in on them and went ballistic. The venue was insignificant. The dance had been innocent and Dawson was just the excuse for Pacey to let the demons that had been taunting him out. He was tired of being, as he made very clear, Joey Potter's charity project. He felt like he was the designated loser in this scenario.

_"Pacey, I never said that. Look, this isn't about me, this is about you."_

_"No, it is about you!" he screamed. "It's about you and how you make me feel when I'm with you! Okay? I feel like I'm stupid and I'm worthless and I'm never right. But you know what I realize? That it's not my fault! It is not my fault! Because when I'm with you, it's, 'Poor Pacey, he didn't get into college,' and it's 'Stupid Pacey forgot the limo and ripped the dress and messed up the corsage.' "_

_"I told you I didn't care about any of that!"_

_"But I want you to care! I want you to care! I don't want you to just accept it like that's the way it's supposed to be. We are not trapped on this boat, you and I are trapped in this relationship. I can't take it anymore, Joey. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm nothing! I feel like I'm nothing. That's why I flinch when you come to touch me. It's why I never touch you, why I never even think about it. Because when I start to, it just reminds me that I'm not good enough." _

Once upon a time, the boy and the girl ran away together on a boat, but this ship offered no convenient escape. True Love had gone down at sea and the only exit from this nightmare led to an excruciating drive home in a dilapidated, gas guzzling limo. The somber passengers, Jack & Tobey, Drue, Dawson & Gretchen, agreed to let Joey off first; on emotional overload herself, Jen had passed out from one too many, and Pacey—well, Pacey wasn't talking at all. For once, his eyes could no longer mask the truth; their blue-green brilliance had turned stone cold.

"You're home early…" Bessie started to say as Joey ran past her. The tears that she had held back for most of the cruise, as well as the humiliating drive home, flowed like acid rain, burning luminescent tracks down the slope of an already sopping wet face. "Jo?"

Hearing footsteps, Bessie turned around expecting to see Pacey and was surprised to find Dawson instead. "What happened?" "It's bad. Really bad." "How bad, Dawson? Is Pacey okay?" "No."

Bessie stood in the dining room, torn between going to her sister and staying to talk to Dawson. He spoke first, but offered little. "I've got to take the others home, Bess. Sorry. Call me in the morning?" He left before Bessie could utter a protest.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Everywhere around her room Joey saw reminders of him. The cute couple photos, the stuffed toys he used as puppets to entertain her, the clothes hanging on the back of her door. She grabbed a couple of his shirts and curled up in bed with them, her grieving sobs muffled by the folds of worn cotton. "What'll I do now?" she cried.

Tears flowed freely as she recalled how afraid Pacey had been that he was holding her back when, in fact, the opposite had been true. Her body was now wracked with disparate emotion. He bought her a wall and showed her possibility; he inspired her to dream. She had never felt more creative or as free as when she had been with him—even before the boy and the girl became that thing known as a couple.

She sunk deeper. Joey once thought she had lost her true North when she and Dawson split, the Leery household had been the center of her universe after her mom died. But what she learned from Pacey was even more valuable; she found her anchor here, in her heart. He grounded her and gave her the courage to move forward with her life. She was no longer rooted in the past. She dreamed of the future because of him.

_He was my muse! I wish I had told him that. Maybe he would have believed that. At least it would have made him smile._

She had been living this incredible fantasy with him, laughingly thinking of themselves as an old married couple—yet they had never had to deal with anything most adults have to. Their siblings lived in the real world, not them.

His final words to her on the boat echoed in her ears. "I've become a man who hates himself so much he can't even look at his own reflection in the mirror," he said. His self-loathing was startling to her. She knew something was wrong, but never suspected it had gotten this bad. "I wish that I could tell you that being with you doesn't make that worse, but it does... because the more that you love me in spite of that, the angrier that I get at you...and the more that I stop loving you back."

_The more that I love him, the more he rejects **us.** _

Was she still breathing? She couldn't even remember taking a breath after that. "You deserve better than me," he said.

_No, I don't. I don't deserve anything at all._

She succumbed to the swirling darkness, a cloud as black as anything she'd ever experienced. It hurt to move, it hurt to think, it hurt to breathe…and it hurt to do the most natural thing of all, cry.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Bessie stood on the other side of the bedroom door, her heart aching for her little sister one tremulous sob at a time. After pacing back and forth for nearly an hour, hoping that Joey might come out or invite her in, she slid silently against the wall and down to the floor. She still didn't know the full story, but she understood the consequences. "God, if you're up there, you've got to let me know why. Why now? With all the pain that girl's been through in her life, did she really deserve this?"

Finally, about three o'clock in the morning, she picked up the phone and dialed the Leery home. "Dawson, I'm sorry to wake everyone but I really need to know what happened last night." He tried to be diplomatic about it. "Joey and Pacey had a fight," he said, still trying to wake up. "Dawson, I'm not stupid. You said it was bad. What did you mean?"

"I don't know. Neither one of them was themselves at the dance. Something must've happened early on because I saw her wandering around, looking lost. I went to talk to her but she wasn't in a confiding mood. So we talked about… other things. Then I asked her to dance and she seemed to brighten up. She was actually laughing when Pacey walked in and started yelling at her. For no reason."

"Oh my God…"

"The next thing you know they were having this screaming match in front of everyone. He was saying the most awful things to her, Bess. I tried to break it up but Pacey pushed me away. He continued to berate her until she finally told him to go to hell. She walked away. But I heard later that he tracked her down to offer an apology of sorts which only seemed to upset her more. Obviously, none of us was in the mood to attend any after-Prom parties after that so we brought her home."

For a moment, Bessie didn't know what to say. She looked up and saw Joey standing in the hallway, her wrinkled and stained gown glaringly disheveled …her scraggly hair let lose from its bond…everything about her a pathetic wreck. "Thanks, Dawson," she said quickly. "Yes. I'll let you know. Bye." Bess got up from the couch and attempted to gather Joey in her arms, but she was inconsolable. "What'll I do now?" she kept saying as she fought back glacier-sized tears.

How do you comfort someone who's past comfort? Bessie didn't know, but she would have to find a way. Right now, she could only think of clichés. "You take it one day at a time," she said, brushing the damp hair away from Joey's face.

There were times in their relationship when Bessie felt more like the mother and others when she felt like the big sister. On this particular pre-dawn morning, she felt like a little of both. The mother in her wanted to shelter her, protect her, take the pain away; the sister wanted her to open up, talk to her, confide in her, trust her. She led Joey back to her bedroom, helping her to get out of her dress and into a comfortable nightshirt. She brushed her sister's hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks. As Joey got back into bed, Bessie reached to clear the old clothes away, but Joey stopped her and gathered them tightly to her chest, then closed her eyes. Bessie turned off the light knowing full well that neither one of them was going to get any sleep.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The Potter girl didn't show up for school on Monday—the Witter boy did. He figured he deserved whatever nasty looks were tossed his way. But he was let off the hook. Much to his chagrin, Pacey discovered that classmates neither of them knew had already made a judgment: Joey was the diva, the control freak; she probably deserved it.

_She didn't deserve it. I'm the one who should face the firing squad._

Jen and Jack were strangely solicitous, and he didn't see Dawson at all. For some reason, the only person who looked at him with rapprochement was Principal Peskin, the all-knowing keeper of his former girlfriend's academic legacy. That was easily pronounced, wasn't it? Former girlfriend.

Back at home, Gretchen was unusually quiet and seemed determined to stay out of Pacey's way. It took another full day before she was able to tell him that she and Dawson were splitsville as well; she hadn't wanted Pacey to think it had anything to do with him or Joey. But it did. She claimed she had broken up with _him_, but Pacey knew better. Gretchen was just an obstacle in Dawson's path and now he was free to pursue his muse again; order was returning to the universe.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Bodi came home from work early Monday afternoon. The B&B was booked for the rest of the week and he wanted a chance to talk with Joey alone. She was sitting at the table, contemplating the same cup of tea she had been blankly staring at for nearly an hour. "Do you want a refill on that?" he asked. If she'd had her wits about her, she would have made a joke about the service being lousy; instead she simply waved him away. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.

"Do you want to talk?" "Not really," she said softly. He persisted. "Jo, you can't do this to yourself again. You can't just shut down because life isn't going the way you planned it." Joey hid her face in her hands. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked plaintively. It was the question that had been on her mind all weekend. She pulled at the sleeves of her sweatshirt—_his_ sweatshirt.

"He loves you, Jo. I know he does. Whatever happened, whatever went wrong, that will always be true. But you have to let go." She looked up. Seeing the disoriented look on her weary face, Bodi felt that gnawing sense of heartbreak, as he had so many times in the continuing saga of the Potter sisters. "Maybe he'll come back, maybe he won't. But you have to do it…for him."

"How do I do that?" she asked, trying her best not to lose it again, but finding it increasingly difficult to fight what she was feeling and hold back the wretched tears. Bodi put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. "You do it a little bit at a time. It's gonna be hard, Joey. But you have to let go here," he said, pointing to his temple, "as well as here…in your heart."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Try. Please, honey? Try."

**zzzzz**

_I remember everything. _

**zzzzz**

When Joey was absent for a second day, Dawson skipped school to find her. "I'm not going to be there when it all falls apart," he had once threatened. Now he didn't care if people saw him as her consolation prize. He couldn't help himself, he needed consoling too, and he was determined that they could both get through this better…together.

"Hey, Dawson. She's out back on the dock," Bodi told him as he walked up to the B&B. In good times, hanging out on the dock usually meant she was catching up on her reading assignment. Somehow Dawson didn't think that was what she was doing now. "Joey Potter has a Walkman?" he said incredulously as he walked toward her. She didn't hear him at first, only becoming aware of his presence as he sat down next to her on the dock. "What are you listening to?" She lifted up her headphones. "Etta James," she said without much energy at all. "Bodi gave it to me."

"I brought your homework assignments." "Thanks." "I also wanted to announce my intention of dragging you kicking and screaming, if need be, back to school tomorrow." ""That won't be necessary," she announced. "The kicking and screaming part, that is. But I was planning on going back so if you're offering a ride, I accept."

"Can you believe all this build-up to the prom and other rites of passage and we still have to go through the motions of attending school before we can snag a diploma?" Joey smirked. "Is that the semblance of a smile? Did I actually see a semi-quasi-little smile?" "Stop it," she said, quietly but forcefully.

"Sorry, Dawson. Bodi told me about you and Gretchen." "Yeah, proms suck, don't they?" "You shouldn't have gotten in trouble for running after me." He put his arm around her. "Is that what you think? No, it was much more than that. You warned me. It's the Witter way: you don't know you're in trouble until it's too late."

With that, Joey felt the emotion building up inside her. Forcing the tears back, her body began to tremble in response; she denied even that as one solitary tear tracked down her pale cheek. She took a deep breath. As a witness to her struggle, as well as being the one who inspired this particular event, Dawson regretted not thinking twice before tossing out a witless bon mot. He drew her into his embrace, murmuring softly that he was sorry for being so thoughtless. Joey welcomed his arms around her and allowed herself to stay that way until she was calm enough to look at him again.

Good news. He did have good news to tell her. He diplomatically changed the subject back to school. "So…Principal Peskin called me into his office. He wants to see you tomorrow. He says it's important." "Okay." He gave her another hug before releasing her. "So…I'll see you tomorrow?" He kissed the top of her head. "Bright and shiny, sweet cheeks." There was the hint of a smile on Joey's face as he left.

**zzzzz**

"_Principal Peskin…our families…my fellow graduates. I stand here before you aware of the similarities that we share. I know that you're feeling, outside of my incredible stage fright, the same things that I'm feeling: pride and accomplishment, closure and regret, and a hopeful outlook on the future." _

**zzzzz**

Joey Potter walked down the halls of Capeside High valiantly trying to look straight ahead and not acknowledge the pitiful glances being thrown her way. The opinion meter had again shifted when classmates observed the devastated shell of a girl who returned to class on Wednesday. Though she was going through the motions, trying to get back to her usual schedule, she was obviously light years away from the edgy, sarcastic Joey Potter they had grown up with. Today, they saw a girl whose makeup—something they rarely noticed on her—was drawn on harder and heavier, as if she needed it to steel herself from the outside in. The event of her demise was now being popularly referred to as a "promicide".

When word leaked out that Peskin had asked Joey to give the commencement speech, classmates were grateful for an excuse to give her a smile and a thumbs up, perhaps even a pat on the back. "Good going, Potter!" the chorus reverberated. It never even occurred to her that statement would have meant something entirely different two days earlier.

All week Joey had been waiting for a sign, and she finally got one. Mr. Kubelik, the Worthington rep, asked her to bring her boyfriend to the next party—the Dean of Admissions wanted to meet him. Telling Mr. Kubelik that she and Pacey were no longer together was the easy part. Asking Pacey to go with her to the party, when neither one of them had either seen or talked to each other since the split, was decidedly more difficult.

Still there was hope, and the possibility that this was the sign to move forward that she had been waiting for made the lonely drive to Pacey's house worth it. She would simply have to be the one to swallow her pride and offer a flag of truce.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The boy watched the girl pacing outside on the front lawn, talking quietly to herself, still not ready to charge the porch and knock on his door. She hesitated before gathering enough courage to announce herself. "Hey," she said. She talked fast, keeping her eyes downcast, as if she needed to get it all out before she changed her mind. It was something about a party for Worthington freshmen, but the boy had zoned out on the message when he noticed that she was still wearing his ring. She hadn't given up on him.

All he could think of was how much he missed her, blurting it out before he could stop himself from saying it aloud. "It wasn't supposed to end like that. We're not supposed to end like that, right?" The girl didn't answer; she couldn't. It wasn't supposed to end, period. "So are you coming to the party with me?" she asked. Knowing how hard it must have been to ask him that, the boy figured he owed her the chance to get her life back on track. So he said yes.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

A flicker of hope burned in the distance. Perhaps Pacey was the fated one after all and Worthington was his ticket out of Capeside as well. But the gods weren't kind. They cruelly offered him a chance to be a lap dog—just a member of the crew on the dean's yacht, shamefully, _not_ an invited guest. One day, Joey might be an invited guest on such a cruise; Pacey would always be the hired help. His fate was confirmed.

"Let's go," Joey said immediately upon finding out. She couldn't believe that she had inadvertently set Pacey up for another fall. She grabbed his hand, but he protested, saying that she should stay; this was her life now. "How can I enjoy it without you?" she responded poignantly, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall.

Her mind was full of apologies. She was sorry for ever making him doubt himself…for being the one who couldn't own up to her own feelings…for being the one who always made things more difficult…most of all, for being the one to wound those she professed to love. For being the one who couldn't let go.

When Pacey brought her back to the B&B, Joey took a step toward rectifying that fault. She asked if he might consider taking her back home with him. "We could just…sleep," she assured him. Pacey drew her into a warm embrace, both comforting and tormenting them both with its familiarity—her head resting on his shoulder just so, his fist tangling itself in her hair.

"Gretchen's gone," he told her as they entered the house. "Being a Witter she couldn't resist the temptation to flee the coop before the lease was up." Joey tried on a grin but felt like a character in an old flicker. A D.W. Griffith film, to be exact. Dawson had shown her the silent film _Broken Blossoms_ and she vividly recalled the Lillian Gish character, never having known true happiness, trying to force herself into a smile by curling the edges of her mouth with her fingers. That's what it felt like, something unreal.

Pacey fished a clean pair of sweats out of his drawer and gave them to Joey, exiting the room so she could change. When he returned, she was already lying in bed, her eyes closed and almost serene, her breathing measured. He could not hear the pain. He laid down next to her, gathering her up in his arms one more time. It was strange, but he almost felt grateful for this second chance to get it right and give her a happier ending.

When he thought she had fallen asleep, he brushed the hair back from her shoulder and traced out three symbols: **I - Heart - U**

He relaxed his grip around her and fell asleep.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"I'm going to count to ten and then I'm going to start kissing you," the girl whispered. "If you don't want me to…then you're just going to have to stop me." He didn't stop her, and they shared a passionate kiss that built incrementally. From longing but not impatience, from knowing that this time it was right, that they were really, truly, deeply in love and wanted to express that in the most intimate way possible. He folded his arms around her and, in one powerful move, swept her toward the bed; a nervous giggle escaped her lips._

_She kissed his beautiful bare chest. "You're all I dream about," she told him. He couldn't wait any longer and drew the girl to him, kissing her again lustfully while moving her back on the pillows. She gasped as he slipped in—reacting, not to the penetration itself, but to the exhilarating feeling of finally having this boy inside of her. A rush of emotions nearly overwhelmed her. The boy tenderly brushed her bangs away from her face. "Are you alright?" he asked. She whimpered softly; he didn't hear what she said and stopped. "Don't stop," the girl responded, almost pleading. "Don't stop." _

_Both stared at each other in awe. He kissed her on each cheek, then fully on the mouth as he started moving again—slowly, reverently. "I love you," she said, nearly breathless with excitement as she eased into the rhythm of their lovemaking. The sense of completion lit her up from inside. "I love you, too," he said. "Love you today, love you madly always." _

_She wrapped her legs around him, driving him deeper inside, sighing as she lost herself in the shimmering cloud of euphoria._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I love you, too, Pace, and it's killing me. Joey opened her eyes. He's finally asleep, she thought…she hoped. She could feel his warm, steady breath on the back of her neck. Once a sweet turn-on, now just another part of the torture. It had been a mistake to think she could do this. How could she be so close to him and not touch him or kiss him or _want_ him? Yet she knew that this was something she needed to do in order to let go completely, finally.

There was a time when letting go meant allowing themselves to be intimate with each other, now it meant something far more sinister and profound; it meant losing each other entirely.

Pacey shifted slightly in bed and Joey tensed up imperceptibly. But his arms remained around her and she gradually found herself relaxing and drifting off to sleep. When she awoke the next morning, he was gone. So this is what it is going to be like, she thought, as she looked at the ghostly trace of his body still apparent in the bed linen. And in that moment she knew that a part of him would always be with her.


	5. Chapter 5: The Future, Fini

CHAPTER FIVE

"The Future, Fini"

"That was a beautiful sunrise, wasn't it? I dare say it ranks in the Witter Top 10 of sunrises to remember when walking away from the woman you love." The seagull nodded a cautious assent, then scuttled further down the dock looking for breakfast. "Be sure to call before you make that big trip abroad, little one. That gulfstream can be a bitch!"

It _was_ a nice sunrise. One the boy knew he would have enjoyed much more with her, another pleasant memory to add to the book. But it was a book he had closed and he dared not open it again. Otherwise, he'd never have the courage to continue on this path. Alone.

"Somehow I knew that I'd find you here," she said. Of course. She always knew where to find him. She started to apologize for the previous night's debacle, but he wouldn't let her. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault," he stated emphatically. The woman standing before him was not the reason for their breakup, he was. "But I thought that you said…"

"I know what I said and I know how I said it, and it makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about it." It made him sick because it was so unfair, and not anywhere close to the truth. How could he blame her for his insecurities when she had been the single, most positive force in his life? He felt like such an ass for doing that. Why had he wanted to hurt her so badly? Why couldn't he allow her to feel pride in her accomplishments? And he was very proud of her.

"I know you are," the girl replied. "But I didn't show you that," he said sadly. He faulted himself for morphing into this pitiful, bumbling male who couldn't deal with his girlfriend becoming the breadwinner in the family. "I hate that guy," he said with disgust. "You're not that guy," she insisted. Nice try. "I feel like that guy."

She couldn't stand to hear him berate himself any more and, when he made an allusion to being grateful for a nicer ending, she quietly took his hand out of his pocket and clasped it between her hands. One powerful hand sheltered by two slighter but seemingly stronger ones. The chemistry was still very much alive between them, but both suppressed the urge to act on it and absorbed this most bittersweet moment; a stilling of a once-raging fire, a conclusion of sorts. And a strange but peaceful moment of clarity.

When the sun rose high enough to warm their faces, the girl brought his hand to her lips, kissed it, and left. It was painful to watch her go, but the boy forced himself to look. He loved her and hated her at the same time. Why couldn't she do the same? Be angry at him, curse him out? He didn't know what would be worse, seeing her face contorted in anger or witnessing this mask of sorrow that now veiled her, almost beatific in its simplicity and depth.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The struggle didn't get any easier as they neared graduation and Pacey found himself riding tremendous mood swings. One minute content that he had indeed made the right decision, the next minute in a blue funk when he saw her walking with Dawson in town. The humiliation was made complete when Mitch Leery prohibited him from attending a commencement rehearsal. He was denied entrance in front of Joey and the rest of their friends. Still angry about that one, he walked out of a final exam—the last one, in fact. The one that would have determined his status at graduation. He was a walking, talking, self-fulfilling prophecy.

Joey made the mistake of trying to offer help "as a friend". Pacey had stubbornly refused any and all help to date, and charity from the ex was more than he could bear. "I can't be your buddy," he said, while trying to explain that being in such close proximity was becoming increasingly painful for him. As long as he was still in love with her as deeply as he was, there was no way he could foresee being "just friends". It was the cruelest form of torture, he felt.

"And you can't see any time in the future when we could be friends?" she asked, the need in her voice pathetically apparent. "I don't want to think about the future," he responded a bit too quickly, then apologized for his rashness. The look on her face said everything—that stone in the pit of Joey's stomach just got heavier. He knew it couldn't have been easy for her to come and see him.

"Nothing seems easy anymore," she said with a heartbreaking shrug as she looked at him dead-on and then turned to walk away. Again. They were getting good at this part.

Joey struggled as well. Not with finals—all turgid drama aside, those had been relatively easy to ace. Articulating her thoughts about the future, however, and melding them into an inspiring graduation speech for her classmates was another thing. What did she have to say about the future when hers had devolved into something she was more unsure of than ever?

It took a letter from the grave to remind her that not all change was bad and that her future, however uncertain it seemed at times, could be luminous. Her mother's hopeful musings on a daughter's unseen future motivated her to open up her notebook and begin a new draft on that speech. She knew there were students like Pacey who didn't see a glistening future before them, kids who didn't have a free ride to the hallowed halls of higher learning and were facing entry into the real world_ today, _not tomorrow. She wanted to write this for them.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Miraculously, at the graduation blowout at the Oyster Bar, Pacey seemed to have another change of heart. Spurred on by a teacher who had gone out of his way to give him another chance, he gave himself permission to be optimistic about the summer that lay ahead. He was ecstatic when he ran into Andie, giving her a gi-normous hug. She looked better than ever with scarcely a trace of that uptight freak he met late in the Fall of their sophomore year. Even better, she was happy. "Leaving Capeside isn't an end, but a beginning," she told him.

Pacey couldn't keep it a secret any longer, blurting out—practically gurgling—that he had passed his exams and was going to graduate after all. Andie could hardly believe that _she_ was the first one he'd confided this in. But he didn't need to tell anyone else, he said. He didn't need approbation from his Minutemen friends. "I did this thing for myself." Pacey elected to tell Andie because she had been the first person to make him believe he could write his own ticket in life, destiny and fate be damned.

And he did believe it—for awhile. Why couldn't he hold onto it? Why did he believe the prognostications even less when they came from Joey? "You know what you need?" Andie told him. "I think you need a little men's liberation. You have this...I don't know, intrinsic desire to let other people define your happiness. You've got to stop doing that! Happiness is your own responsibility." "You're right," Pacey agreed. "Getting out on my own is going to be the best solution for all concerned."

He had seen her from afar several times during the party, always turning around just before she lifted her head to see him. She was laughing, happily trading quips with Jack and Tobey…and later with Dawson. At the end of the evening, however, as the party was winding down, Pacey caught a glimpse of Joey looking hopelessly alone. She was sitting inside the Oyster Bar at a table for four, with four empty red drink cups her only solace as she looked out into empty space. This time, he felt brave enough to approach her, though it appeared at first she wasn't. Seeing Pacey enter through the set of screen doors, stopping briefly before he opened the second, she got up to leave but then hesitated.

"I'm glad that you made it," she said. He surprised her by telling her he was thinking about tomorrow. There was a vague glimmer of hope. "What about this tomorrowland," she asked as she took a small step forward, "does it look even remotely bright?" "It certainly didn't when it held the prospect of never seeing you again," Pacey responded with heartrending sincerity.

Joey didn't see the difference between that tomorrow and the here and now; neither seemed to hold the prospect of their being together. Where was the Happily Ever After in that? This felt more like Happily _Never_ After. "I keep thinking that if we could go back and find our fatal error, we could just erase it and somehow come out somewhere else, somewhere better. Because it wasn't supposed to end this way, Jo," Pacey reiterated. Oh, how she wished he would stop saying that! Just. stop.

Watching how Joey fought to hold her head up, and knowing full well there was little else he could say that was going to make her feel any better at this particular moment, Pacey offered her a hypothetical instead: _"If I were lucky enough one day to find myself owning a sailboat again, and I were to ask the woman that I love to go sailing with me—would she?" _

Joey tried on her first real smile in weeks, letting it break out on the right side of her face before the left side caught up. Dare she hope? "You wouldn't even have to ask, Pace," she said softly. He took a deep breath and a sweet smile crossed his lips as well. She said goodbye and began to walk away. But there was something in Pacey's farewell that made Joey turn and look back, surprised by the finality of those two words so often tossed between them, "See ya." Pacey flashed another gentle smile and her look softened. Joey blinked a goodbye back. There was no finality, just resignation—and, above all, love.

**zzzzz**

_But I don't think you need me to elaborate on those feelings. Instead I wanted to share something personal and tell you that there people in my life who are gone now. People I miss very much and people who I am haunted by in different ways. But whether we're separated by death or merely distance, I know that they're still with me because I keep them in my heart. _

**zzzzz**

It was at Jack and Andie's party after graduation that Joey overheard the truth. Jack and Jen were discussing summer plans and Andie was encouraging them to come back to Italy with her. "Just for a couple of weeks," she pleaded. "You guys will absolutely love it. I mean, why should Pacey be the only one to get all the adventures this summer?" _What? _

The emotional rollercoaster she was on took a decided downturn and Joey felt that uneasy sinking feeling. "What do you mean?" she asked as she returned from the buffet table with a plate of petit-fours. She gave the plate to Jack, affecting a casual demeanor which belied her escalating turmoil. "He's gone?"

Andie suddenly got shy, which was highly uncharacteristic of her as well as suspicious. Jack eyed the little cakes, trying to decide whether to speak or eat first; friendship won out. "I guess he decided to take the dean up on that offer, Jo. He caught a flight for Miami this morning. That's why he wasn't at the graduation ceremony." Were they having an earthquake or something? It felt like everything was spinning; Joey steadied herself discreetly against a lawn chair.

"But he did graduate," Jen piped in. "We can at least celebrate that." Jen raised her glass. "To Pacey, wherever he is!" Joey lifted her glass half-heartedly but didn't take a sip of the distastefully non-alcoholic drink; the toast was cursed—let it be her own private curse.

Her mind was racing a mile a minute now. It didn't take long before she extricated herself from the group and quietly slipped out of the party, hurrying back to the isolated country roads that led her to more neutral territory.

_He didn't even say goodbye, _she screamed in her head as she drove home. _How could he not say goodbye. To me? He could find it in his heart to tell Andie he'd retaken the exam and passed…but he never said a single word to me? He never even hinted at it! Why did everyone else know except me?_

Joey was crushed. When she arrived at the B&B, she was thankful that Bessie and Bodi weren't there—due, in no small part, to her absconding of the truck, they were still, no doubt, at the McPhees. She gathered some belongings and threw them into the truck. Backing out of the gravel driveway, she knew exactly where she was headed this time. To Pacey's.

She didn't fight the tears as she walked up the steps of Pacey & Gretchen's abandoned home with a box of doomed memories in hand. Joey allowed herself the measure of despair she felt welling inside of her. She found three small logs and kindling for a fire and arranged everything neatly in the small living room fireplace. She lit the makeshift kindling with determination. Sitting down at the bare kitchen table, she finished her final journal entry and impulsively turned the pages back to a sketch she had drawn of the boy and girl in bed, his arms wrapped protectively around her, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heart beat. It was one of her most cherished memories.

She signed and dated the sketch, then closed the book and walked the scant distance to the fireplace and the inferno it contained. Fire had once blazed in Joey's heart, but it was over now. The fire before her sounded a final death-knell to the near Shakespearean saga of Pacey Witter and Joey Potter. With tears stinging her cheeks, Joey fanned the book and placed it squarely in the middle of the fire. She had spent months working on the album, a collection of sketches, prose and poetry that she had intended to give Pacey upon graduation.

It was a surprise that remained unwrapped and unfinished until that evening. Joey's life with Pacey was now a private memory locked deep in her heart and she would steel it against everything. "Pace," she whispered as if he were in the room with her. "I remember everything."

**zzzzz**

_The truth is, in time, that's all that we're going to be to each other anyway, this population of memories. Some wonderful and endearing, some less so. But taken together, those memories help make us who we are and who we will be. So whether you're here with each other now or you're merely in each other's thoughts, remember each other on that road ahead. And I hope that no matter where your travels lead you in this life, you'll always take Capeside with you. _

**zzzzz**

"I remember everything" became a private mantra, quieting the sobs and lulling Joey into sleep on the hardwood floor of a lonely summer rental which months before had been the scene of youthful declarations about eternal bliss. She woke up hours later to a headache that felt more like a hangover. She absent-mindedly picked up the phone to call Bessie. The line was dead. That too was symbolic.

She wandered around the empty house until it was too dark to see, then got in the truck and begrudgingly shifted it into gear. _Do you see, Pace? This is me moving forward. In the darkness. _ It was a scary thing: moving forward in the dark. What other unwanted surprises were out there waiting for her? Contrary to what Joey knew people sometimes believed, her heart was not made of stone. It was a fragile thing and it had taken quite a beating recently. It would take time to heal…if she let it.

Back in her room, she took off the gold band from her middle finger, right hand and carefully placed it back in its box, hiding it in the back of her top dresser drawer where all her private things were stored. The ring had represented her bond, now broken. In the future, she might take it out in order to feel the connection again, but right now the memories were too overwhelming.

She got ready for bed, playing an old game in her head. Her single most life-altering moment? Truthfully? It was the moment she stepped aboard the _True Love._ She wished she could say it was the moment she'd chosen Pacey, but, no, she had needed Dawson to lessen his grip on her in order to do that. Once he did, however, there had been such an exhilarating sense of freedom. She rushed to Pacey's house to beg him to stay…but he wasn't there. She searched high and low throughout town—no Pacey. Finally, she ran into Doug on his rounds and he told her Pacey was hurting bad. He'd decided not to wait until the next morning; he was leaving as soon as he loaded up the boat. Joey panicked, running to the marina in fear that he was already gone.

But _True Love_ had not sailed. It was safely moored to the dock. When she saw Pacey approaching her, she knew what she was going to do. She wasn't going to ask him to stay—she would ask him _if she could go with him._ It was, perhaps, the craziest, but at the same time wisest, decision she'd ever made. Outside the confines of Capeside, Pacey and Joey were allowed to grow and find strength together; Romeo & Juliet never got that chance. Outside the confines of Capeside, Joey came to believe that this was the real thing. She could see this relationship standing the test of time…but it didn't. They didn't. The forces gnawing at their bond were too great.

She had been naïve, so hopelessly in love that she failed to see the Big Picture. Her future had never been in question, his was. It wasn't fair to think she could just drag him along with her. He had to find his own way in life. But he had changed her, made her stronger. She would never doubt her ability to move forward. Because he believed in her. He loved her. And she loved him. Still.

"I will always, always love you," she prayed with her eyes closed tightly shut. She could see the embers fading in that fire. She let go one more time, knowing that it would not be the final time. But perhaps it would be the last time before she saw him again, and then it would be easier.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_You know, Pace. Just because we're not having sex anymore…there are certain things that we could do."_

"_What kinds of things?" _

"_We could love each other."_


	6. Chapter 6: Joey's Manual

CHAPTER SIX

"Joey's Manual"

The years passed. Real life intervened taking Joey Potter and Pacey Witter farther and father away from each other, and yet bringing them back together at odd moments in time. Mitch Leery's funeral. A one-night stand singing with Charlie's band. Her 19th birthday "celebration" which culminated in a horrific fight with Dawson. Strangely, it was Pacey who consoled her on that one, reassuring her that her relationship with the Big D didn't define her.

They almost got back together once. Almost. It was at the end of her sophomore year at Worthington and both were on the rebound from relationships—she with Eddie and he with her dorm mate, what was her name? But the timing wasn't right and Joey fled. They saw each other sporadically during the next few months while she was trying to help Dawson make a film "on ten dollars and a dream". Then she went to France for the rest of the summer and, aside from the occasional postcard she sent home, they didn't keep in contact.

Pacey moved back to Capeside and Joey returned to Worthington. They met again at Lily's 5th birthday party. Joey had just graduated (magna cum laude, of course) and was in the enviable position of having headhunters come after her. Pacey was working as a chef at the latest incarnation of The Ice House. He looked happy, and Joey was happy for him.

After much soul-searching, she accepted an assistant editor position at Doubleday & Co. under one of their top editors. And she met a writer, Christopher Devonshire, who turned her world upside down. Her college roommate once ventured the opinion that Eddie Doling was the killer combination of Pacey's and Dawson's best qualities, but Eddie was more Pacey than Dawson; Chris, on the other hand, was the real thing. Attractive, with well-to-do parents…a nice New York penthouse apartment…yet underneath that privileged veneer, managing to maintain the soul of an artist struggling on meager royalty payments. He was a free spirit, a lover of the avant-garde, and he challenged Joey on everything from her taste in wine to her taste in clothes. He was undeniably opinionated—one of his sexiest attributes, in her estimation—but enjoyed luring her into a conversation before he voiced his point of view. He had an encyclopedic mind when it came to film classics (_Beat the Devil _being one of his favorites), but he preferred rainy afternoons with a good book instead. He loved the simplicity of Hemingway as well as the complexity of Proust.

Most important, he loved Joey. Six months after they began dating, she subletted her shoebox-sized midtown apartment to a friend and moved into his apartment on the Westside. Although they suffered through the typical rocky patches of a couple's first year together, their relationship was comfortable, secure, trusting. And the sex wasn't bad either. For once in her life, Joey felt settled.

Until she received the wedding invitation; a beckoning from her past. Gale Leery was getting remarried. It would be the first time everyone had been together since…Well, she couldn't even remember the last time everyone had been together. They always seemed to be one person short. This year it would have to be her. She and Chris had been planning a romantic getaway to celebrate their first anniversary together. So she reluctantly declined the invitation and sent along a gift of embroidered curtains from Henri Bendel.

She hadn't expected to find the ring in Chris' drawer, though she could hardly have been surprised; he had been very mysterious about their "weekend of passion". She wrestled with herself in bed that night, never quite sure of what she felt or how she should pretend to act when Chris officially presented her with the ring. How was he planning to do it? Struggling to fish it out of his pocket after a romantic dinner in his cabin? Casually placing it near their toothbrushes on the pine bathroom shelf? Hidden away in one of her manuscripts? Would he get down on one knee or simply place it on her ring finger? Would he ask or assume? Maybe the ring wasn't even for her…

"Josie?" She stilled herself in bed. "Is something wrong?" Chris asked. "I'm just a bit restless, that's all. Sorry for waking you." He drew himself closer, wrapping his arms around her lithe body and kissing her on the side of her jaw. "You're not disturbing me. I'm a little restless myself. Do you want a drink?" He kissed her again before getting up from bed. "I'm going to fix one." "Actually, I could go for a cup of hot cocoa," she said. "Lightweight," he fired back, laughing.

Joey sat at the dining table looking out over the city at night, a sense of loss still tugging at her heart when her eyes settled on the space where the World Trade Center had once lit up the sky. The first time she had visited New York with Jen, the Trade Center had been there in all its nocturnal glory; it was one of those things that had been taken for granted until it was gone. Of course, she didn't move to the city until years later so her sense of the void it left behind wasn't as deep, but it still resonated with her new friends and neighbors. Its imprint was everywhere. Once undeniably there, now ripped out of the sky. Gone.

Her own sense of loss had been on a much smaller scale, but equally profound. Her mother, alive and vital. Gone. Her father, a rascal and a hero to his youngest child. Gone. He returned briefly, then was torn from her again. Resurrected a second time, it was never the same between them; the father she knew was gone.

And then there was Pacey Witter, the love of her young life. The boy who taught her the meaning of true love yet did not feel worthy of it. Gone. His imprint was also still there. The man she saw a few months earlier remained self-doubting and vulnerable, despite his recent success as the owner of Capeside's newest hot spot. They had run into each other while shopping—another memorable Christmas encounter—but every time she asked him about his life, Pacey managed to turn the conversation back to her. Some things never change.

"Chris, would you mind terribly if we postponed our celebration? I really feel the need to get back home, check in with everyone."

"Josie, of course I mind." He never did like calling her Joey. "We've been planning this getaway for weeks! What's the problem?"

"I don't know. Just a gut feeling." He poured another drink and she knew that he must be really mad. As usual, however, he held it in and brooded instead. After an awkward silence he asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"You can, of course, Chris. I just think it would be really boring for you." More brooding. "Okay, fine. Go. We'll reschedule." With that, he put his glass in the sink and stalked off to bed, leaving Joey alone to contemplate what she had just done. Check off Step 1 in the manual for pushing men away.


	7. Chapter 7: Pacey's Handbook

CHAPTER SEVEN "Pacey's Handbook" 

"Thank you, Mrs. Allen," Pacey said to the blonde in his private office, tucking in his shirt as she readjusted her clothing as well. He opened the door for her. "This is coming along quite nicely." "Thank _you,_ Mr. Witter," she said. "I'll have 200 menus ready for you next week." She combed her fingers through her shoulder-length ash blonde hair and walked back out into the restaurant. What is it about older women, Pacey wondered as he watched her leave. "Goodbye, Maddie." She turned around and smiled; Pacey froze, losing himself in the past for a moment.

The Witter way of keeping women from touching his life was decidedly the restless male approach; he had sex with them. Pacey Witter had sex whenever he wanted, typically with women who were unavailable, literally and emotionally. No attachments to worry about, just something pleasant to fill his days and nights. Love? That was rarely demanded and never offered. He kept his true feelings about love in a very private lock box.

Yet time had been kind to him. He barely graduated from high school, never attended college, but somehow managed to get on with his life and even improve it. Working as a chef at Civilization, the chic, high-end restaurant back in Boston, had been a major step forward. He found something, besides sailing, that he loved to do. Unfortunately, the restaurant folded unexpectedly and he took a side trip down a regrettable street—the world of high finance was not his milieu. Despondent over that failure, and the loss of a friend's money, it took him the better part of a summer to get his act together.

He met Wes Rinehart, the owner of the Cash Cow, while trying to raise money for Dawson's film. That was a good day. He got a job offer and the fulfillment of a lifelong fantasy: Kristy Livingstone, his teen dream from high school, asked _him _out. They dated casually throughout the summer and fall, usually dinner and a movie, and much to his surprise, Pacey discovered that Kristy wasn't the girl he thought he knew. The most popular girl in school had learned the painful lesson that the outside world didn't care whether or not she once had been head cheerleader at Capeside High. Now a single mother, she turned that 'had been' into introspection and growth; Pacey actually admired her. They became good friends and, for some time, he was her back-up babysitter; her son Tyler adored him.

Pacey tried on a more serious relationship with Hannah von Weiding "of the Bar Harbor von Weidings". Once his nemesis, Hannah had made a connection with him years earlier at the Miss Windjammer pageant. Pacey never forgot how humbled she was by her third place showing that evening, and how resigned she was to the fact that Roger, the family dog, spent more time at home than she did. Now a graduate of Bryn Mawr, she finally got to spend some extra time at home—yet her parents remained on the move while managing to belittle any job opportunity that threatened her entitlement. Pacey ran into her at the Spring Regatta. They spent the evening talking about boats and sailing and their favorite secret spots in the Caribbean. He drove her home and didn't return to his own apartment for the rest of the weekend.

Hannah was fun, with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a wry wit; she could match him barb for barb. Pacey found that incredibly sexy. The fact that they shared dysfunctional family issues just endeared her to him more. When her parents found out about the relationship, however, they put their collective feet down—all of which determined her resolve to rebel. But she wasn't ready to live in Pacey's world either and inevitably returned home in defeat. The last time Pacey heard from her, she was traveling abroad as Roger's companion.

He got over that. It was surprisingly easy to get over, in fact. Anything was easy compared to the devastation of his senior year in high school. Would he ever get over that debacle? He thought, at 17, that he was ready for a mature, committed relationship. Yet he had had detonated that one, and in little ways sabotaged every other decent relationship since then. If there was a handbook in Reaching for the Unattainable, Pacey J. Witter could be People's Exhibit #1.

In his early 20's, Pacey allowed himself to drift again and used work as his anchor. Thank God for Wes. The Rinehart family operated a small chain of restaurants in New Jersey and had been very successful. Wes decided he wanted to get to know his children before they got too old and moved to Capeside in what he called a semi-retirement. Of course, he hadn't been able to keep his hands out of the restaurant business and he bought into a new restaurant being built on the site of The Ice House. The Cash Cow, a family restaurant with unpretentious cuisine, was extremely popular with the young families moving into the area.

Wes didn't know that he was effectively throwing Pacey Witter a lifeline when he offered him a job. He didn't know, but he was happy that this 20-something kid seemed to have a real affinity for the business. He was even ballsy enough to "improve" the menu with some hearty favorites he had learned to cook in Boston. In return, Wes taught him about managing a business. Lesson one with a family business: establish community ties. The Cash Cow currently sponsored a bowling team (though Pacey refused to take part in that one) and two Little League teams. Pacey especially liked helping out the youngest team of 7 and 8 year-olds. By the second season, Wes had talked him into participating as an umpire. Pacey the Ump in black pads. How much would his friends enjoy teasing him about that?

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The Christmas before last had not been a good one. Wes had fallen ill and Pacey had taken on more responsibility managing the restaurant. He was determined not to let his good friend down, yet always wary that at any moment his fortune could change. Holidays usually cheered him up, but not Christmas. Not this year. Too much time spent alone reflecting on the happiness that had eluded him, on where he wasn't instead of where he was. Exhausted from long hours spent at the restaurant, he had put off shopping until the last minute. He wandered through Eliza Wightman's Toy Bazaar, filling his cart with goodies for other people's children. Reaching for a video game, he encountered a quicker hand snatching it away.

"You've got to move faster than that, Pace," she said. "Joey? Holy _merde,_ what are you doing here?" "Hello?" she retorted. "I grew up here. And my family, if I remember correctly, still owns and operates Capeside's most popular B&B. Planning an early Christmas, Pace?" she joked as she perused his shopping cart. She could tell by his choices that he was buying things he would have liked as a kid. Or maybe some of these were for him after all—except the doll clothes and accessories. She was pretty sure Beach Blanket Bingo Barbie was not his style.

She picked up a pink doll ensemble. "Need some help?" "Well, okay. Yes, as long as you're offering. I've got Carrie's girls taken care of, but don't know what to do about Gretchen's." "How old are they now?" "Two and four." "No, this won't do," she said. "This won't do at all." They walked up and down the aisles as Pacey put back the rejects and Joey enlightened him about "toddler women".

Pacey felt a strange sadness creeping over him at the checkout counter. They were finished and she was about ready to leave. Not yet, he thought to himself, don't leave yet. "How about a cup of coffee?" "I'm kind of on caffeine overload right now, Pace. Can I take a raincheck?" "Hot cider? Egg nog? How about a piece of pie? I know a place where they make a mean apple cobbler."

He was so insistent, Joey found herself giving in without further protest. They walked to a diner on the other side of Broad Street, sitting in a corner booth away from the high school crowd. "Two cobblers," Pacey directed the waitress. "I know you're going to say let's split one, Jo, but then your fork will find its way to my side and the next thing you know we'll be ordering a second anyway. So let's just cut to the chase, shall we? Would you like milk with that?" Joey returned his sarcastic look. "Coffee. Black. Egg nog for you, Pace?" "Coffee," he laughed. "Might as well end the day with caffeine. And Equal. Could you bring us some Equal, please?"

"Hmm. Somebody's watching their sugar intake. I see a leaf turning," she nudged him. "And some things never change," he replied as he watched her grab her coffee mug with both hands. She rarely used the handle, preferring to let the warmth seep in through both hands before the coffee even touched her lips. Her lips. Pacey had to stop looking at them…at her like that.

"So how's Mark?" he asked. As if an inquiry about her boyfriend would alter his state of mind. "Mark…Geez, it really has been awhile since we've talked. We're not together anymore...not for some time." "Wait a minute. He was the one with you at Lily's birthday party last spring, wasn't he? It looked pretty 'on' to me."

Joey paused for a moment, not quite sure if she wanted to delve any further into this subject. "That was the last gasp," she said matter-of-factly. In truth, it had been an attempted reconciliation, one that didn't work for Joey, and they'd split after returning to New York. The last she had heard, Mark, the professional student, was working on his thesis over at NYU and had moved in with a fashionista in SoHo. "Right now, I'm just focused on work. You know, I got a promotion. I'm actually reading major manuscripts now and giving editorial advice to struggling young authors."

"Ooh. I pity the poor writer who has to live up to _your_ expectations," Pacey kidded her. "Your sparkling analysis has been known to undo many a fledgling career." "Bite me, Pacey." He leaned over. "No, don't you dare!" she commanded, moving away briefly, then gradually finding her way back. "Thank you," she said as the waitress returned with their cobblers. Pacey immediately dove into his and watched curiously as Joey scooped up a bite with her fork. "Like it?" She grinned and stabbed another piece of apple, remnants of the sauce dripped down the side of her fork. "I guess so!" he declared.

Joey became quiet. Food and music. Why were sensory memories always the most powerful? Must not think about the past, she reminded herself. Must not think about _True Love._ Must think about the present.

"Returning to the subject at hand, I have a couple of promising manuscripts I'm following through to publication," she said. "One author has already been vetted and will have his book in stores this February. His name is Chris Devonshire and I think he's going to give John Irving some real competition." "Irving hasn't been Irving since he stopped writing about bears," Pacey added with glee. Joey seemed disappointed. "I thought you would like _Until I Find You,_" she said. "Jack Burns is very Pacey-like in quality—note his obsession with older women, and the innocence lost in childhood. 'In increments both measurable and not, our childhood is stolen from us—not always in one momentous event but often in a series of small robberies, which add up to the same loss.' "

Pacey gazed at her with a strange look of melancholy on his face, he was there but not there. "Never read it," he said almost unintelligibly.

"What's up with you, Pace?" "Nothing. I'm just tired. I'm worried about Wes." "You really like him, don't you?" "Well, except for the bowling thing." "Hey, don't knock bowling. It's one of the few sports activities you can be a total klutz at and still have a good time." "We never did go bowling, did we?" "No, you pretty much shot that idea down every time. You were more concerned about other indoor activities." Pacey's eyes flashed a smile of remembrance, which quickly dissolved.

_She left, remember? She doesn't want you._

"So. Assistant editor. That's a good thing, right? Have you planned your takeover of Doubleday yet?" "Not yet," she laughed. "I saw that piece in _The New Yorker._ 'Winsome.' Great title. I loved the play on words. You should write more, Jo." "It's just a hobby." "It's not, you're better than that."

"So are you, Pacey. I'm so proud of you. I wish you could find it in your heart to believe in yourself more." "I believe in _you_." "It's not the same thing."

"There's nothing to brag about here, Joey. I'm just a poor schlub wingin' it in small fishing town, neither one of us rating more than the smallest print on the Yahoo map of Life—if that much."

"Pacey Jonathan Witter!" She was starting to get angry. "Don't do this." She forced herself to take a breath and calm down. "Come on, get into the Christmas cheer!" "Ho ho ho." Joey was taken aback. "When did you become so goddamn negative?" she asked.

"Oh, that's right. You have the concession on that." "Obviously not anymore." "Jo. You don't have to be nice to me just to pass the time." "What makes you think that's what this is about?" "What's it about then?" "I care about you, you moron! What? Can't I say even that?"

_Ah, yes. We're playing those other roles. We requited, then took it back, and now it's just another thing that's better left unspoken. Right?_

An awkward silence passed before Pacey dared to look at Joey again. Viewing the look of concern on her face, he found himself caving in. "I'm sorry, Jo. You're right. The future's out there, just waiting for us to catch up. I don't usually ruminate on the past; it's the present that has me all mixed up. Forgive me. All I can offer as an excuse is that I'm really beat."

She put her arm around him and rubbed his shoulder sympathetically, then moved closer to kiss his cheek, her lips brushing across his chin for just a moment longer than they needed to. Anticipation was ripe as she leaned her head against his shoulder for a scant milli-second. Pacey charged his heart not to pound so desperately.

"I should go," she said. "Bessie's gonna kill me. I was supposed to be home an hour ago." "Need a ride?" "Pace, the B&B's just around the corner." "Oh, yeah. Right." She got up from her seat at the booth and Pacey felt the sudden loss of warmth. Why did he always feel warmer when she was around? "You get some sleep," she said, kissing him on the brow. "And I'll see you later." "Promise?" "Promise, Pace."

But they didn't see each other again that Christmas. Pacey later found out that she'd brought the family in for dinner at the Cash Cow, but he was off on a Wes emergency. She left behind a gift, though. Pacey waited to open it on Christmas Day. _Until I Find You_ by John Irving, first edition July 2005. His index finger ran under the lines of the handwritten inscription:

_A little sadness, a little despair, and_

_even a little something to make you smile_

_Merry Christmas, Pace_

_Love,_

_Jo_


	8. Chapter 8: Dawson's Show

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Dawson's Show"

"Hello?"

"Jen! I'm glad I caught you home. You sound out of breath. Do you have a minute?"

"Hey, D-man. It's okay," she said as she put down her purse and shopping bag. "I just got in. What's up?"

He spoke fast, as if he didn't want her to interrupt. "Listen, I'm sending you an e-mail with more details but the long and short of it is that the network picked up my show. The pilot went over like gangbusters and they've been previewing it along with a special promo reel to high school and college audiences. TPTB think…"

"TPTB? Non-geek speak please, Dawson."

"Sorry. The powers that be," he said. "That is, The WB, thinks we have a hit."

"Congratulations!"

"That's not all," he continued. "They're rolling out a major publicity campaign —pulling out all the flags and whistles, as it were. I think they're spending more money on PR and advertising that they did on the pilot itself."

"No way."

"Yes, way. And…"

"Uh oh. Major qualifier here."

"It's no secret that these characters have been drawn from real life. It's got the entertainment rags searching for answers. They want the scoop on the real Creek gang."

"Uh huh," Jen said with some trepidation, waiting for the other shoe to drop. In fact, she took off her shoes. Her feet were killing her. Eight months pregnant, she hadn't seen her feet in weeks, but the dull throbbing pain from their confinement reminded her that they were still there.

"Would you mind if I gave EW your number or e-mail address?"

"_Entertainment Weekly?_ Are you serious?"

"100 dead serious."

Of course. When wasn't he? "I don't know, Dawson. Now's not such a good time, with the baby coming and all."

"Oh God, Jen. Sorry for being such a self-aggrandizing jerk. I forgot to ask you how you're doing. The baby's due when?"

"End of September."

"Right when I deliver mine."

And now we're back to him again. Okay, go with it. "You're funny, D-man. What exactly are we talking about here?"

"Probably just a brief phone interview. A few questions about growing up in Capeside and our motley crew in high school."

"Most especially, the wünderkind writer/director/producer, no doubt."

"Can't avoid that one."

"Okay, give them my e-mail address and I'll take it from there."

"You're a peach, Jen. Listen, can you do me another favor? I don't have any current numbers on Jack."

"He doesn't live in New York anymore, D. Now brace yourself: he's teaching sophomore Lit at Capeside High."

"Jack?" Dawson roused his computer from sleep and started typing. "I'll have to make note of that one."

"Of course you will."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Listen, I have to go. Do you and Joey still have brunch on Sundays?"

"When we can. She's got a new love interest now. He's been keeping her pretty tied up from what I can see." Jen chuckled.

"Uh huh…" Was that distraction or feigning lack of interest?

"She seems happy, Dawson. Really happy."

"That sounds great," he said rather distantly. "Don't tell her anything, OK? I want to tell her myself."

"Of course."

"Say hi to Arthur for me. Love to Grams…"

"Yeah," she said with some remorse. "About Arthur…" He hung up before she could get it out. Arthur, her insanely talented, verging on manic artist boyfriend of the past two and a half years, had left her. For the moment, it was just Jen and Tucker, her loudmouth Siamese cat.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"So, Dawson called the other day…" Jack said as he began putting away the groceries in Jen's kitchen.

"Sorry. No chance to give you a warning. He's a man on a mission these days. What do you think?"

"About _The Creek?_ I think it rocks!"

"Jack."

"Okay, not crazy about it. Not so much. But maybe if he gets it right this time, he'll get it out of his system once and for all."

"One can only hope," Jen said, as she opened a jar of spicy dills.

"Who'd have figured that he'd be the Peter Pan who never grew up? I thought I had a corner on that market." Jack grabbed a couple of jars from the bag and held them up. "Mustard or barbeque sauce?"

"I feel reckless. I'll go with the mustard, thanks. Open it?" Jack obliged and watched with fascination as she dipped her pickle into the hot mustard. "Something tells me that life in that self-obsessed Tinseltown hall of mirrors isn't as simple as it seems," she said, crunching into the dill. Jack cringed.

"Probably not. But, hey," he smirked, "things are tough all over."

Jen caught that "This is My Life" look. "So, are you going to tell me about this mystery man or not?"

"What mystery man?"

"The one who has your insides twisted like a pretzel. Jack, I know you didn't come to New York just to help me shop for groceries."

"Long story. Ambiguous ending."

"Bullcrap. Come on, Jack, 'fess up. Who is he?"

"Would you believe the town sheriff?"

"Pacey's father?" Jen laughed. Then she saw that her friend, her best friend in the entire world, the man who had saved her life—and her sanity—on more than one occasion, was completely and utterly serious. "Oh my God…"

"Dougie."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Pacey Witter!" The voice on the other end of the phone was unmistakable.

"Andie? Andrea Rose McPhee? Is that you?"

"The one and the same."

"What the hell are you doing, girl? It's so good to hear from you!"

"I just got a call from Dawson Leery."

"He tracked you down, did he?"

"Yes. Called me at work but got my voicemail instead. I don't know, he said something about permissions and a PR junket—whatever that is. I was hoping you could enlighten me before I call him back."

"Mr. Dawson Leery, formerly of Capeside, Mass., has produced another opus about his high school years."

"And he needs us because…"

"He decided to stick with the same old cast of characters."

"R-right…" Andie said as she rubbed tired eyes that were glazed over from the previous 12 hours on the floor/12 hours on-call/12 hours stand-by shift at the hospital.

"Truth be told, from what I understand most of us are but supporting characters who float in and out of the scenarios as the need arises."

"And the principal players would be…the D and the J?"

"You guessed it," Pacey said with a touch of sarcasm. "Same old chords, same old song. But here's the catch: it seems certain members of the media are interested in the other monograms nonetheless. They want to reveal the puppet masters behind this absolutely fictional but true-to-life tale."

"I see. That's where the permissions come in."

"I don't think he's asking our permission as far as the show goes. That ship has already sailed. The first three episodes have been shot and there's more to come. They only need permission in terms of using our actual names and likenesses, if the media requests it."

"The Hollywood publicity machine at work," she observed.

"Exactly."

"I'm going to have to think about this one."

"You sound tired, Andie. Don't feel you have to do this to please anyone," he said appreciatively. "Dawson doesn't need us. There's only one permission he really needs to snag—and the last I heard he still hadn't approached her."

"He hasn't told Joey yet?"

"Nope."

"Do you think she knows?" Andie voiced in a near-whisper.

"He's sworn us all to secrecy. He wants to wait and tell her in person. He's supposed to see her in New York this weekend."

"Wow. The plot thickens. This is weirdly exciting. I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that one."

"Me, too." Pacey paused thoughtfully. "I take that back. Maybe not."

"Yeah. It could get a bit uncomfortable."

"To say the least. Okay," he said, eager to change the subject. "Enough about Dawson and his silly ass show. Tell me what's happening with you, Andie. Are you happy? Are you seeing anyone? How's work?"

**zzzzzzzzzz**

**To: JLPotter **

**CC: jpotter102 **

**From: TheBoss LeeryEnt **

**Subject: Hollywood dream come true**

_Jo,_

_Need 2 meet w/you asap. Flying n2 NYC this coming w.e. Can U spare time??_

_D_

**To: TheBoss LeeryEnt **

**From: JLPotter **

**Subject: Weekend plans**

_Dawson—_

_Are you kidding? Of course I'll make time for you! I'm dying to see what you're up to and what this most secretive dream/fantasy is all about. Where are you staying? Call me when you get in._

Joey

**To: JLPotter **

**From: TheBoss LeeryEnt **

**Subject: Where or when**

_Looks lk the Mayflower. Everything else allowable on production tab booked. Lunch on Saturday?_

D

**To: TheBoss LeeryEnt **

**From: JLPotter **

**Subject: Weekend plans – Part Deux**

_Dawson—_

_It's a deal. May bring a friend, do you mind? I'm so excited!_

_Joey_

**To: JLPotter **

**CC: jpotter102 **

**From: TheBoss LeeryEnt **

**Subject: Bad news**

_Hate 2 do this. Absolutely wanted to hv a face 2 face, but there's a crisis on the set. Have to fly 2 Vancouver instead. Damn! Tried 2 call U at ofc but Ms Potter was out to lunch—a very long lunch. Hope U get this b4 you mk any further plans 4 tomorrow._

_The WB picked up my show. I'm a made man, as they say (for the moment at least). The buzz has been incredible, everything is falling n2 place. The whole thing has been unbelievably overwhelming—& the show hasn't even aired yet! They simplified the title. Calling it THE CREEK now. Same basic cast of characters._

_Publicity is already rolling out on campuses nationwide. Mainstream press will start kicking in soon. EW is doing a big feature. Interviewed the actors, the creator (me, of course), writer/directors & producers (me again). They want 2 do a sidebar on the show's inspiration. Would U be willing to talk 2 them? Hard 2 cover THE CREEK without R Sammy. Would U? Please? I'm on my knees, Jo. We really need U on this one._

_Call me anytime 2 discuss. Want 2 hear ur voice anywayy._

_Love,_

_D_

_P.S. Does Bessie still hv those scrapbooks?_

Joey padded quietly through her darkened apartment. She loved walking around at night without the lights on and just the ambient light streaming in from nearby street lamps to guide her way. It wasn't like she could get lost. By anything but New York standards calling her apartment "a spacious one bedroom" would have been considered false advertising. There was one bedroom all right: just inside the door and off to the right. Space is what her double bed took up wall to wall, leaving just enough room to open the closet. One healthy stride over the bed deposited visitors in her tidy half-bath, meaning a shower, sink and toilet—no bath.

Ten feet down a narrow hallway lined with bookshelves was a half-kitchen with built-in appliances and a modest amount of counter space. The biggest room in the entire apartment was the living room, which also doubled as the dining area, media center and Joey's home office. Furniture, like the space, was scarce. A loveseat doubled for a couch, an overstuffed chair accompanied by the prerequisite end table, faced a small but quaint electric fireplace, and an antique tea table supported a 21" TV/DVD player, which by necessity was also her stereo. In the corner, two straight-backed chairs bookended the dining table, the surface of which was covered by Joey's laptop computer as well as a colorful assortment of manuscripts in various stages of being read.

The most impressive piece of furniture wasn't, in fact, furniture at all. It was a large aquarium which, upon closer inspection, featured a Hans Christian Andersen-inspired aquatic scene. Mermaids peeked out of underwater hideaways as exotic tropical fish swam through castle towers looking for nourishment. Joey had received the aquarium as a surprise gift months earlier. It was a late, and she guessed very expensive, Christmas present from Pacey Witter.

_Beep, beep! _

Incoming mail beckoned. Joey opened Dawson's message and read it with no small amount of disappointment. He wasn't coming to see her, after all. The trip wasn't about her but about a TV project. She wouldn't get the opportunity to introduce him to Christopher.

Now what was this about permission?

**To: TheBoss LeeryEnt **

**From: jpotter102 **

**Subject: Postponed again**

_Dear Dawson,_

_Wow. You certainly know how to build a girl's hopes up! Sorry about the trouble on the set. I hope everything works out._

_So my life is soon to be fodder for couch potatoes across the country. Somehow I liked the movie palace venue better. Do you think the Creek saga will stop here or will it have other lives? No, honestly, I am so happy that your film led you down this exciting new path. I'll bet you haven't been getting much sleep these days. _

_As far as your request is concerned, given the circumstances, I guess my name will probably surface in some manner, eventually. But I am uncomfortable with doing interviews or having my likeness used. I have a career to consider as well. It's your show, Dawson, your story. Celebrate that and let your wonderfully-wrought characters speak for themselves._

_I hope you understand._

Joey

"Josie?" a low, gravelly voice came up from behind her, settling on her shoulder. Joey leaned back sensually, drinking in everything that voice intoned. "Come to bed," it said seductively. She clicked on the send button and closed her laptop, taking her lover's hand and following him back to her bedroom.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The party celebrating the broadcast premiere of _The Creek_ was held at the newly-renamed Ice House. Months earlier, Wes Rinehart had had a stroke and, when a full recovery looked doubtful, his family had asked Pacey to buy him out. Ever the entrepreneur, Pacey put together an impressive group of backers—which surprisingly included several family members—to accomplish this. In a nod to the past, his first act as owner and proprietor had been to change the name of Wes' Cash Cow. Why promote beef when the principal menu item was fish?

When Dawson heard about his friend's new venture, he proposed throwing a party to end all parties celebrating the restaurant and his show. Posters and banners were immediately shipped out to seal the deal. Late in September, entertainment show camera crews appeared to record reminiscences from Capeside locals and _The Creek_ officially became part of pop culture vernacular.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

_ I hope the e-mail addys turned out this time. This is my 3rd attempt to post this. Urgh! _


	9. Chapter 9: Jen's Wish

CHAPTER 9

"Jen's Wish"

I can't believe I left him like that, she thought. He wanted to come with me and I wouldn't let him. No doubt about it, I am a first-class, dyed-in-the-wool, raging-at-the-moon bitch. Next stop: Bellevue. Did I really just throw away a year's work at a committed relationship at the sign we were about to make the jump to the next all-important level? Yep, I ran. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Of course, Chris doesn't know what's up yet. He seemed so confused when he saw me off this morning. So was I. Confused and angry and upset.

Angry? Why is that? Upset about what? Maybe this isn't the ending I want and I'm just scared. This weekend back home will give me exactly what I need: time to think.

I should have called Jen to see when she was going out. We could've spent some time together. We haven't had a real heart-to-heart since Amy was born. That was a tearjerker. She was so full of love for Amy from the second she was born—who knew that motherhood would be the anchor she needed? Impending single motherhood had terrified her throughout her pregnancy, but the reality of it fulfilled her in a way she never expected. I was jealous.

See? That is what I miss. Having someone to confide in who will be straight-forward and honest with me…who sees through the bizarre masks I hide behind…who knows when to tell me to cut the crap. And Jen certainly loves doing that! Well, maybe this weekend we'll have some time to talk. Maybe she'll tell me Jack's big secret…

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey walked out of the car rental office and couldn't believe what she saw: Dawson Leery trying to hijack her Dodge Intrepid. "Goddamnit!" he exclaimed into his cell phone. "The stupid key won't open the car." "That's because it's my car," she said. Dawson turned around. "Joey! I talked to my mom, she said you couldn't make it." "Yeah, well," she replied, nervously sifting through her brain for an appropriate excuse, coming up with the generic "Things change."

There was a weighted pause as both stared at each other in the middle of the rental lot. "Can we hug or something?" Joey asked, hoping to break the ice. "Because this is kinda weird." The minute he had his arms around her, she realized how much she missed him; she missed the closeness, the needing to know everything about each other. E-mails, when answered, just weren't the same; the internet allowed affected closeness but nothing tangible. Here, face to face, they couldn't fake it.

The blare of an angry horn startled them back into reality. Joey motioned that she would see Dawson later and got in her car. He smiled as she drove away, vainly trying to carry on his phone conversation but not succeeding. Order had returned to Capeside.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Lord in heaven, am I seeing things?" Jen proclaimed. "You are if you're praying to a higher power at this point in your life, Lindley," Joey said as she walked in the back door of the B&B with her bags in hand. "I thought you had other, deliciously more romantic…and carnal," she said in an aside, "plans for this weekend." "I did. I bailed." "Joey!" Jen chastised her. But it was no use protesting now. "Okay, sit down, Ms. Potter. I think you have a few plot twists to update me on." "Jen." "Come on, Jo. I live for the melodrama."

In the next room, however, the delicate sound of a baby crying shattered the moment. "Jennifer," Grams said as she walked into the kitchen with Amy in her arms, "your daughter needs you. Why, hello Josephine." "It's good to see you, Mrs. Ryan. Jen," she said with a deliberate nudge, "your _baby_ needs you!" "You are so not going to get away with this," she laughed as she exited the room with Amy.

"Hey, Jo," Bessie said as she walked in with a pile of laundry to sort. "I put you in the Frederick Fricke suite." Joey smiled. "Alex and I did a major clean-up in his new room—which he thanks you for, by the way, very much—and we put the remainder of your stuff on the bed so you can go through it before you leave." "Thanks, Bess." Joey picked up her bags and went down the guest hall to her room.

Opening the door, she couldn't help but smile again. It had been seven years and the room still looked the same. She could smell the candles burning…hear the music playing…visualize the lovers silhouetted in the moonlight. The memories flooded her brain. She closed the door quickly and took a breath, then opened it again and immediately felt his arms around her. This isn't going to be easy, she thought as she walked in. Putting the bags down, she turned toward the bathroom intent on washing up when she saw the souvenirs of her past beckoning her. A sweater, a jacket, a lost earring, an old pair of Keds.

But the thing that captured her attention was the black metal lock box. "I found it in the closet underneath some loose floorboards…well hidden away," Bessie said, observing her sister's sudden melancholy. "That was the point, Bess," Joey said softly. "It was meant to be forgotten. Even by me." And then to herself, "Especially by me."

Joey had brought most of her teenage journals and other embarrassing reminders of her youth to New York; they now lined a shelf in another closet but they weren't hidden. She had purposely lost the key to this lock box long ago. "Don't you want to open it?" Bessie asked. "This isn't my Indiana Jones moment," Joey tried to explain. "I know what's in there. I just don't know if I want to revisit it." "Well, if you change your mind, here," Bessie said as she handed her sister a hammer. "Unlock those memories and let them go."

Bessie closed the door and walked back to the kitchen, smiling with smug satisfaction when she heard the sound of metal pounding metal.

_Of course I know what's inside this damn box, _Joey thought as she attacked the lock with her hammer. _It's all about a boy—a boy who was once my life's passion, a man I never seem to completely forget. _ Two more swings and the latch dutifully popped out. Joey opened the box carefully, as if expecting some dastardly spirit to arise from the twisted metal.

And there it was: her secret stash recording a most private history. The journal she wrote in during the summer between her junior and senior year in high school. A stack of funny little notes in his unique scrawl—nothing important but they'd made her smile once upon a time. An assortment of snapshots carefully preserved by Bessie in a dime store photo album. Her senior yearbook, barren of signatures, undecorated by reminiscences from fellow students she no longer recalled. A jewelry box from Reeds and, tucked away under it all, a well-worn blue linen envelope with the boy's name written on it in clean strokes of an indigo blue pen.

Scattered pictures, like the song said. Memories she had neglected to destroy one night many years ago, memories which still had the power to haunt her.

Jen knocked on the door. "Joey, your sister says that tea," she said in mocking sophistication, "is served." Joey opened the door a crack. "Potter, we have a date tonight! What're you doing in there, anyway? It sounded like the apocalypse."

High tea at the Potter B&B was punctuated by laughter and friendly conversation, but the only personal disclosure was the one offered by Joey herself: she had found a ring and fled in confusion. "How big was the stone?" Bessie asked excitedly. "Why does that matter?" Joey replied, perturbed. "What did you tell him?" Jen asked, more to the point. "I told him there was this wedding and I realized it was important to me to see my friends and family…and that I needed to do it alone. Do you guys think that's bad?" "If the idea of marrying him makes you want to run screaming in the other direction, it's probably a good indication that he's not the one for you," Grams said sympathetically.

"You guys don't understand. I mean, he's perfect. And if he's not the one for me, then who is?" The ladies looked around the table in amusement. Grams and Bessie left to finish her unpacking and, seeing that Jen suddenly looked tired and overwhelmed, Joey offered to watch Amy while she took a nap. "Thanks, Jo. And then we'll have that talk."

Alone at last.

"_It's weird how that happens, isn't it?" Dawson once told her. "You can still love someone but you stop needing them like you used to."_

I saw those looks, Joey noted as she began rocking Amy. Those all-knowing, bemused looks like the scene has changed but the song remains the same. What am I, perpetually 16? Wasn't there a growth process along the way? I stopped needing either Pacey or Dawson to complete me years ago. I did!

Neither boy defined Joey now; she had found herself in her independence as a woman. That didn't mean that her desires had changed, however, or that she didn't want to find someone who could help create that unit that extended beyond her self. She was at the magic age of 24: two years out of school, career on track, wildness in check…hormones operating just fine, thank you.

She longed for a family of her own.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Jack's picking us up in half an hour," Jen said as she sat on Joey's bed, poring through a copy of _In Style_ as she humorously watched Joey try to "cheer down" in front of the mirror. Cheer down was something you did whenever you were getting too excited about something. Cheer down was something Joey Potter rarely needed to do. Joey cheering down was..interesting.

"That's okay," Joey responded belatedly as if her mind had been somewhere else. "I think I'm going to walk." "Uh huh. You think you're getting out of our little tête-à-tête, Potter, but I'm an elephant and I do not forget. We will rumble soon." "Not a good example for the kid, Lindley. Besides, there's nothing else to talk about. I told you everything." "Sure you did. Joey, how many more shirts are you going to try on?"

Bessie handed Joey an umbrella as she tried to sneak out the laundry room door. "It's sprinkling outside. Don't want to mess with the hair," she winked at Jen. Joey snatched the umbrella and left. "Which one?" Bessie asked as she heard her sister fly down the steps. "Pacey," Jen said. "You sure?" "Yep."

Joey didn't actually put up the umbrella right away, enjoying the invigorating feel of the rain mist on her face. The group had agreed to meet at The Ice House; Joey was hoping she'd spot him first before he spotted her. "Joey Potter, as I live and breathe!" Pacey exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up for a twirl. Casual onlookers recognized her immediately. They'd read the press. This was the girl who inspired Dawson Leery to write not one but three scripts about her. This was the _real_ Samantha Pettijohn.

It was hard to decipher that look of incredulity on her face. Was it from the multiple images of her clone in _The Creek_ now plastered on the walls, celebratory left-overs from that opening night party? Or was it because this was the most physical Pacey had been with her in years? Three hours earlier, a memory of having those arms around her had washed over her and now, here they were, living it—recreating it. Life imitating dreams imitating life. She had hoped that she had gotten to the restaurant early enough to have a private conversation with Pacey, but that was not to be. As if on cue, Dawson, Jen and Jackers appeared from off the street and Pacey happily ordered drinks on the house.

Notice the placement at the table: Dawson ensconced at the head, the triangle still firmly intact with Joey seated between "her boys" and the pair that never quite fit in, Jen and Jack, safely removed from the action on the other side of the table. Everyone was feeling the fine effects of wine by the time their conversation took a provocative turn. Joey recalled the time she painted Jack in the nude. "I got more than I bargained for," she commented with an arched brow and a suggestion of naughtiness in her voice. Jen remembered the time Pacey slept with his teacher—and still couldn't get A's. Pacey reminded Dawson that his closet wasn't skeleton-free; he remembered a vixen named Eve.

Somehow, magically, these recollections from their once angst-ridden past were no longer painful. Joey thanked Pacey for re-opening The Ice House. "I did not know how much I missed it," she said. "Maybe if your daddy hadn't burned it down in the first place, it would still be yours." "Ohhh. Nice, Pacey, nice," she laughed. Jen noted with glee how their chairs had moved closer together during the course of the evening. "I couldn't write this stuff if I tried," Dawson chimed in, prompting an awkward memory from Jen about his de-virginization. Ewww. Scary.

"OK," Jack said, taking matters—that is, Jen—into his own hands. "On that note, I think it's time for us to go." He picked up his best friend and threw her over his shoulder, privately noting that she had lost some weight. Perhaps that explain why she uncharacteristically couldn't hold her liquor this evening. He would have to talk to her about that.

Pacey took Jack and Jen's departure as his cue to rush the others out the door. Joey resigned herself to speaking with him at a more appropriate time. Dawson offered her a ride home; she declined, hoping the brisk walk home would clear her head. She went to hug him and Dawson seemed even more tentative than he had been during their encounter at the car rental place. Pacey, on the other hand, gave her another hearty embrace and continued to hold her hands until she finally slipped from his grasp. Again, the polarities were striking: Dawson's woman on the pedestal, Pacey's earthbound deity; one could be touched, the other memorialized on the pristine pages of a script.

That was a strange evening, Joey thought as she exited The Ice House. Why did everything seem so unresolved again? Ironically enough, Pacey appeared to be the only one who was happy with his life. Jen was spacey, Jack was analytical and detached, and Dawson was an outside observer. Thankfully, the wine helped to mask _my_ confusion because those rosy cheeks weren't about alcohol at all; they were about proximity and… Damnit all to hell!

Joey walked past the B&B and turned the corner to head back down Front Street. It was depressing to see how gentrified Capeside's main drag had become. There was a time when she would have cut off an appendage to have something new come to town and now, as a former resident, she sought the reassurance of everything remaining the same; Capeside was her touchstone, her Neverland.

She thought of Gale Leery on the night before her wedding to the new man in her life, the man Lily would come to know as father. She imagined Gale as being excited as well as determined, fearful yet willing to let love guide her. She could never replace Mitch, but how wonderful it was to discover that she could open her heart to love again.

The teenage Joey often looked up to the Leerys as an example of an imperfect yet perfect marriage, the melding of two polar opposites drawn together in faith and love. She and Dawson sometimes found themselves emulating his parent's example without a clue about how to get from Point A to Point B. That maturity came in her next relationship with Pacey. Yes, they struggled with the complexities of an ever-changing relationship, but there always was a meeting point for them halfway. And, like Gale and Mitch, their physicality didn't define them—Dawson's feelings on the matter notwithstanding—though it remained an undeniable part of their relationship.

Joey found herself in front of the Leery home. The lights were still on in Dawson's room and, surprisingly, the ladder was back out—as if she had been expected. She took the bait and climbed up. She wanted to talk to the guy whose conversation, as well as his embrace, had been so tentative and so awkward.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It was a lovely wedding. Joey barely got back in time, having to walk back home in the early morning hours, then shower, blow-dry and straighten her hair, and dress while helping Bessie find Alex's clip-on tie (buried in the sofa cushions) and watch over Amy while Jen tidied up in the bathroom. Jen had not slept well and neither did Grams; both looked a bit worn out. Everyone perked up at the reception, however, and when the band started playing, they all gravitated toward the dance floor—all except Dawson, who mysteriously disappeared after the ceremony. Dragged away to nurse his Hollywood muse, no doubt.

"May I have this dance?" Pacey asked. He bowed like a proper gentleman and extended his arm to Joey. "Of course, Mr. Witter." Was now a good time to have that talk, Joey wondered. She let him talk first as he reminisced about the dance lessons she had blackmailed him into taking in search of a college scholarship. She prodded him about the story behind his black eye, which appeared quite literally overnight.

"What's going on with you, Pace?" "What's going on. What's going on is that I forget how much fun I have when I'm with you and it's really, really nice to be reminded." "We haven't had fun in awhile," she said. "I guess you've noticed that you live in New York now and my roots are firmly planted in Capeside," he joked half-heartedly. Make that quarter-heartedly—the exact assignment of percentages to be determined later.

"Pacey, I need to ask you something. The last time…" As she struggled to put her thoughts, her yearnings into words, Joey viewed an older woman with shoulder-length blondish hair and a tattoo on her upper arm eyeing Pacey. She changed course. "I think we have an audience," she said. Pacey groaned.

"Nice to see some things never change. Still breaking hearts?" "Her heart, my jaw," he said. It's all starting to make sense, she thought. "Do you want to help me out here?" Pacey asked. "How?" Without a word of warning, Pacey swooped in and captured her lips with his, closing his eyes as he supported her into a familiar dip. Joey closed her eyes as well, unconsciously moving her hand to the nape of his neck and lightly kissing him back as he returned her to an upright position.

Pacey broke off the kiss and looked off to the side where Maddie Allen had been watching them. Joey tried to collect herself. To say she was dumbfounded would be understating it. The pounding of her heart accompanied by a high-pitch ringing reverberated in her ears, the percussive effect drowning out any attempt to think rationally. She felt her knees weakening and an over-powering sense of desire coursing through her; she could barely look at him. Pacey cupped her face in his hand and tenderly kissed her under the right ear. "Thank you," he said. Though rendered speechless, Joey's darkened, half-lidded eyes conveyed everything she was feeling. Confusion most of all.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Jen, Jen, Jen!" Dawson said in fear and concern as Jennifer Lindley collapsed to the floor. "We were just dancing," he said to anyone who would listen. Pacey and Joey immediately kneeled at her side, Joey taking her hand as Pacey supported her head; Jack came running from the tent as Grams, looking stricken, pushed Dawson aside and asked for Jen's bag. "She needs her pills," she said with great urgency. "I just saw her take one," Pacey informed her. "For God's sake, hurry up and get an ambulance!"

Four friends consoled each other in a busy hospital corridor, not knowing yet how scared they should be but certain the news was not good. Grams, who was in tears in the ambulance according to Jack, would only admit to a "heart abnormality". "It's nothing serious, really," she tried to reassure her beloved granddaughter's concerned friends. "She'll be more embarrassed than anything else when she wakes up."

The doctors had nothing to report other than the patient was stable and they were waiting to consult with her New York physicians. Grams encouraged everyone to go home and get some rest.

"I'm worried. This isn't good," Joey, the eternal optimist, said in the car as Pacey drove them home. "She's gonna be fine," Dawson said. "We don't know anything, let's not jump to conclusions." "Besides she's young, she's healthy," Pacey added. "The best thing we can do," Dawson continued, "is be ourselves and continue on in our typical, usual, distracting…" "…sordid love triangle ways," Pacey finished the thought. "So very not funny," Joey said solemnly.

A phone call from Christopher provided the distraction, and the triangle became a pyramid with Joey once again captured at the apex. Uncomfortable with the present audience, she asked Chris if she could call him back.

"Leery mansion. You are home, sir," Pacey ribbed his old friend. "Please watch your step on the way out." "Thanks, Pace." Dawson popped his head back in the front seat window and looked back at Joey. "I'll check in with you guys in the morning." Joey nodded with a forced, clearly preoccupied smile. "Mañana, my friend," Pacey hailed as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Sitting alone in the back, Joey had been quiet ever since the phone call from her beau. "So, New York guy. He's the writer you told me about, right?" "Can we not talk about him right now? Please?" "Okay, but don't think you're going to get away with acting all hoity-toity on me. Where's your manners, woman?"

"What do you want me to do?" "I'm not your chauffeur—get your butt up here!" "Pacey, in case you haven't noticed, the car is moving!" He looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Well, duh. What happened to the carefree, fearless girl I used to know? The other Joey?" "Oh, that's it. You're going to get it now!" She climbed over the seat amidst much commotion and fuss. "Happy?" she asked, deliberately narrowing her eyes. "Yes. Now put on your seat belt, young lady."

"Pace…" "It's okay, Jo." "What's OK?" "I don't know. Whatever you were going to say, it's okay." "I don't think Dawson expected you to drop him off first." "It's the back seat rule…and, yes, I did catch that look from him. It's just residue, Jo." "I guess there will always be some of that between us no matter how much time passes," she said with some resignation. "It's called baggage," he agreed, "and we have more of it than a carousel at JFK." "Touché."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey was right, the news wasn't good. Jen's heart and lungs were failing: congestive heart failure. It could be a matter of days, weeks, perhaps even months, but sooner or later one or the other would fail—or put so much stress on her system that something, the kidneys most likely, would go into failure and bring everything else crashing down with it. Drugs would clear up the congestion in her lungs temporary, but Jen was now vulnerable to anything that would tax her system, even a common cold.

"Are they sure? I mean, if it's her heart, can't she have a transplant?" Joey asked Grams as they waited outside her room. "She'll never make the donor list, not with her lungs…failing…" Grams was too choked up to continue. The resident on call later told Jack and Joey that Jen's condition had worsened far quicker than her doctors had expected. In her current state, Jen's kidneys and lungs took precedence; she simply would not survive an operation while they remained in this weakened state. Furthermore, the insurance company would never allow it.

"What about if her family insisted on the operation? They can afford it," Pacey offered. "She has a 1 in 5 chance of survival," the resident said.

"How could this happen?" Joey said. Dawson put his arm around her and they walked back out to the car.

Once again, the ringing of her cell phone interrupted the moment. Joey looked at the display screen. 3 missed calls. Did she want to listen to her messages or ignore them for now? There was no question. She selected "Ignore" and shut off the phone. They drove back in silence. She thanked him for the ride, kissed him on the cheek and, as soon as he'd left, grabbed a jacket and went back out.

This time-capsule trip back to Capeside was making Joey feel like she hadn't grown up at all. She was back to being that hyper-anxious teen who didn't know how to deal with all the things she was feeling: sadness, regret, longing…wanting. What _did_ she want? She wanted the confusion to stop muddling her brain. She wanted definitive answers, not continuous forks in the road. She wanted a happy ending for Jen as well as herself. She wanted…peace.

"_I still think you owe it to that boy to call him up and tell him you've been avoiding his calls because you're too chicken to tell him it's over." "I'm not too chicken to tell him that it's over, I'm just…I'm not sure if it's over." "Joey." "Fine. It's over and I'm just…I'm too chicken to call him and tell him."_

Joey looked up and discovered she was back at The Ice House. The lights were dimmed, but she could see Pacey giving the restaurant another look-around before he locked up. She stood at the door, wondering if it would be okay not to think and just lean on him for awhile.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

He saw the woman in the doorway and it startled him at first, a remembrance of a similar moment years ago when she came to him hoping to bridge their estrangement and write a happier resolution. "Jo?" he said. She apologized for just showing up. "I was walking around in a fog and then I realized I hadn't eaten anything today." "Well, you came to the right place," he said, taking her hand and leading her to his kitchen.

Pacey opened the refrigerator and filled his arms with goodies, closing the door with his foot. "The marinara sauce was particularly good today," he said as he lined up the peppers and onions on his counter. "Grab some carrots out of the bin there, will you Jo?" He yielded his knife with practiced skill, slicing the onion with clean, even strokes. "I love watching you do that," Joey marveled. "You make slicing veggies great art, Pace." "Well, I try."

The fragrant aroma of sautéing vegetables began to fill the room. Pacey checked the marinara sauce, lifting his ladle for a taste. It met with his approval. "Here. Taste this," he said, cupping his hand under the ladle as he walked over to Joey and let her take a sip. "Mmmmm. Yep. No suit and tie for you, this is definitely your calling."

Soon they were back to an all-familiar conversation: her praising, him tearing down. "Pacey, don't be so hard on yourself," she said, her voice full of sincerity. "I know that with everything that's going on right now it's hard not to be, but come on…You've really got it going on. You have a great life here."

"I just wish that I could feel that." "You don't?" "Well, I didn't…until you came breezing through my door again." "Uh oh." "There's no need to bolt. I'm just saying thank you. You reminded me of what I'm capable of feeling."

What Joey was feeling was a need to alter their course. Before either of them knew it, they were in the midst of great food fight, cheerfully tossing noodles and sliced vegetables at each other, laughing, gravitating closer together, invading personal space with scarcely a thought until they were out of food and Pacey had Joey backed up against the counter. "And here we are again," he said as their proximity suddenly became very real to both.

Joey skillfully ducked out of that one, making a subtle joke about frequent flyer miles that was an effective threat to leave if the subject wasn't again changed. Pacey, as always, was accommodating. "Well, since dinner is now on the floor, what do you say I help you clean up and we get out of here?" she said. "Deal," he agreed.

"You know, Jo. We could still get a burger or something," Pacey said in the car. "That's okay, Pace. I should get home." Without thinking, she took his hand and laced her fingers with his. Pacey was confused. _Mixed signals, Jo. What's going on?_ The sparks between them were undeniable—stronger than ever, in fact. Why? Why did Joey change her plans and come back to Capeside?

The car pulled into the B&B driveway and Joey, suddenly aware of her faux pas, removed her hand from his. Pacey decided to seize the moment. "Can I ask you something?" he queried. "Sure." "Do you think…I mean, did you ever wonder what it would've been like if I hadn't…if we had stayed together?"

"Once or twice," Joey admitted. "And?" "I don't know, Pace. When it was good, I thought we could solve everything with a single word…a touch…a kiss. I love you so much. But when it was bad…"

"That's the funny thing, Jo, I don't remember it ever being that bad." "I do," she said. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. Pacey touched her cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" He stopped for a moment. "Did you say love or loved?"

She looked away. "So what do you think it would have been like?" she asked quietly, a sense of potential heartbreak hanging on every word. Pacey put his hand gently on her shoulder and turned her back toward him.

"Something like this, every day," he said as he nuzzled her neck, his warm breath paradoxically sending chills through her as his lips skated down her neck to her brushed cotton top and then back up to her cheek. He had forgotten how good she tasted—not forgotten but certainly filed it away as something pleasurable that he didn't do anymore. His teeth tugged at her earlobe and Joey, no longer able to resist, responded with a melodious sigh as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Pacey stopped shy of a kiss and Joey awoke from the trance. "Goodnight, Pace," she said hastily. She pecked his cheek and got out of the car as gracefully as her sudden nervousness would allow. Walking back into the house, she cursed herself for not staying and finishing their talk—though the conversation had gotten decidedly non-verbal. She sat down on her bed, groaning as she realized she was back in the room full of memories. She gave in and mulled the day's events over in her mind.

It just** never. gets. easier,** does it? she thought. Both Pacey and I throw ourselves into impossible relationships and then are secretly validated when they don't work out. But Chris wasn't impossible, I was. I am. All of which just makes me wonder if people are right when they joke that Pacey and I have been "saving" ourselves for each other. How pathetically unrealistic is that? Maybe we're saving ourselves _from_ each other instead. Now **_that's_** something I should talk to Jen about.

Jen.

**zzzzzzzzzz**


	10. Chapter 9 cont'd

Joey promised Jen she would help her "doll up" for the camera. Dawson was taping her video love letter to Amy, the bittersweet intention being to show her that her mother had been young and vital and thinking of her until the end. Thinking back to the home reel that Dawson had found years earlier, Joey recalled how much it had meant to her to see her mother step out of static two-dimensional photographs and become that smiling young woman pushing her daughter on a swing. It was only a few seconds long, but that video clip made her real in a way that nothing else had.

"You're awfully pensive this morning," Jen observed. "What's up?" "Nothing much." "Joey? You've been brushing that same patch of hair for the last five minutes, I'm going bald." Joey stopped brushing and giggled shyly. "Is this about a guy?" "No, Jen. Today's about you." "Okay, it's about me and I want my update on the Potter soap. You _owe_ me, Joey."

"I broke up with Chris." "What? When?" "Last night. I couldn't avoid his calls any more. I just feel so far removed from that girl feigning sophistication in a luxurious condo she could never afford on her own.' "What did you tell him?" "That I would always love him but I wasn't coming back. That I recognized that we had reached that pass or go plateau, and that moving forward didn't feel right…for me." She paused for a moment in thought. "Somehow, I think he agreed. He accepted it way too easily. If it hadn't been my idea, I would have been offended. He was...nonchalant. No anger, no screaming, no tears."

"No begging and pleading? No big suicidal 'I can't live without you' speech?" "Well, there was a lot of drawn-out pauses and heavy silence…then he mumbled something about 'Love is so short, forgetting is so long.' " "That's beautiful." "He stole it!" Of course, Joey the Lit major noticed that Chris the novelist borrowed his farewell line from Pablo Neruda.

"Jen, how do I unravel this mess?" Her friend didn't waste time responding. "You stay true to your heart and stop letting your head overthink things. The mistake is trying so hard not to make mistakes that you never really move on. Embrace the imperfection that is your life—there is no fantasy happy ending."

"Not according to Dawson's show." "Well, you already know my feelings on that subject," Jen said. Joey picked up a gold chain necklace. "It's just sad that it took a TV show to make me see it," she said as she carefully placed the chain on Jen. "See what? I'm incredibly interested in all of this."

"The only decision left is the one that I need to make with myself: to stop running, once and for all. I mean, I _know_ who I'm supposed to be with. I've always known." "Really?" "Yeah, but then the fear takes over, the free floating, anxiety-ridden fear in the pit of my stomach that makes me run. Jen, I am completely comfortable running. I…really don't know any other way."

Jen cleared her throat and gathered her strength, knowing that for once she really did have the power to help. "What if I demand that you make that decision? No more running. I'm going to make it my dying wish." The reality of those words hit Joey quickly and profoundly. "My death will serve a greater purpose. It's your ultimate motivator." Joey looked down and, in her mind, put on a mask. "Jen!" she protested, unveiling a comic face for her friend. Jen whispered in a confidential voice. "Just for the record here, because I feel like I'm a little bit out of the loop on this, who is it that you've always known you're meant to be with?"

Joey smiled, and then froze when she heard the knock on the door. "Hi, Jo. I've come to kidnap Jen," Dawson said as he rolled a wheelchair into the room. "Are you ready?" Taken aback by the interruption—not to mention the ill-timing of the person responsible for it—Joey choked back the words that had already formed in her mouth. The words that could change her life, if she let them.

Neither Jen nor Dawson noticed how she almost lost her balance as they exited the room. Joey sat down in a nearby chair and let the words go. "It's Pacey."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It seemed like hours had gone by.

Joey settled cautiously on the hospital bed, putting her slender right arm around Jen and allowing her to rest against her. "Do you remember that day when we were making Dawson's movie and I had that fake blood splattered all over me? It saturated my clothes, it was in my hair, it was everywhere."

"And you got a little nervous when I tried to help you clean up."

"Well, you were a big city girl and I'd had no time to assess your impious ways for myself. I'd never had a girl look at me so frankly…so non-judgmentally."

"You did think I was hitting on you, didn't you? You thought I was making a pass when I said something about you having a nice body."

Ten years later and Joey's cheeks still blushed at the thought. "I think you were the first person who ever told me I was pretty—outside of biased family members, of course. It made me uncomfortable, especially when you said you were going to make it very difficult for me not to like you."

"Did you imagine leather straps and Crisco?" Jen giggled. "I did like irritating the shit out of you, didn't I?"

"The thing was…I already liked you." "Come on, Jo. Don't kid a kidder." "I'm not kidding. You brazenly announced that you were going to be my friend. Up until then my world had revolved around two boys, the girls at school hated me—and here you were saying you wanted to be my friend come hell or high water, as my mom would've said. I didn't know if I could trust you."

"Trust friendship with another girl? Yeah, I've been there, too. Then, of course, there was another very formidable obstacle in our way…"

"Dawson. Do you think he enjoyed our rivalry?" "A young teenage guy in the throes of his first romantic adventure? Of course he did." "Sometimes he seemed so oblivious, but you weren't. You saw it right away…even before I was willing to admit it."

"I see we've changed the subject. We're talking about the other boy now, aren't we? The one who shall remain nameless."

"He's always in my thoughts, Jen. I've moved on with my life, I've found a career doing something that excites and challenges me, I have a beautiful, intelligent man back home that I thought I loved. But I run into an old flame and after spending five minutes alone with him, I turn into a blithering idiot. He doesn't even know how easy it would be for him to have me if he wanted to." Joey started sobbing silently and found the sickly patient comforting her.

"So I guess we know what Sammy's choice would be. And here Petey was worried about whether or not he'd have to steal her away once again." Joey moved back so she could look straight into Jen's eyes. "Jo, you said you were all out of conflict. Is that true?"

Joey laid back against the headboard, looking straight ahead as she tenderly stroked Jen's hair. "I saw a therapist for awhile at Worthington." "My house calls didn't do the trick, eh?" "More than you know," Joey said, hugging her. "But this was someone new looking at everything from the outside—with no preconceptions about me or the people in my life. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him. "

"Ooh. You went for one of the male counselors!"

"Jen! Anyway… He said that most people repeat familiar patterns, even negative ones. No matter how painful the prospect of a bad ending might be, fear and confusion about an unknown happiness is even more terrifying."

"I know that one well."

"So my history is that people leave. My history dictates that I put myself into situations where either they leave or I do. Jen, am I doomed to repeat history? Is it possible to get it right for once?"

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey woke up cradling a pillow now soaked in tears. She looked at the clock. 7:53am. The hospital would be allowing visitors soon. She dressed quickly and drove straight to Capeside Memorial. There was a lot of activity around room 214. Joey quickened her pace. As she got closer, she could see members of the nursing staff huddled around Grams. Oh my God, she thought. Not Grams. Then she saw her. The delicate outline of her body under a starchy white hospital sheet. Jen was gone.

Jack came running into the room and they turned to each other in grief. So alive yesterday, so eager to talk about the future with her daughter, so willing to comfort others. Now she was gone. Amy, who was now less than a year old, would only know her mother through pictures and film clips, and the memory of friends. Friends who were too stunned to cry at this very moment. Jack picked up the phone, letting out a heavy sigh before he began making calls.

Save the tearful goodbyes for the wake, Joey silently vowed. She took out her cell phone and walked down the hall to where she could begin making her own notifications. "Pacey," she cried, unable to stop herself. "Jen's gone."


	11. Chapter 10: The Promise

CHAPTER 10

"The Promise"

The memorial service was held at the Capeside Community Center, an unassuming one-story building on the edge of town nestled between aged maples and elms. The service was part of Jack's gift to Jen. Knowing that her grandmother would never accede to her request, Jen had never finalized her thoughts in a living will. She had thought about it and wanted to be cremated so that her ashes could be scattered in the hills surrounding Capeside. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that stuff. You know, Jack? That's biblical enough for this Lindley." But she knew Grams' religion frowned on such a thing so she didn't hold out much hope. She would have preferred just a wake, but again she knew that Grams (and some of her family of friends) would probably need something more so she suggested a non-denominational service. Surprisingly, when Jack sat down with Grams to discuss the matter, she consented to these arrangements without significant protest.

Dawson asked Jack if he could take care of the flowers and Jack, overwhelmed with all the responsibilities now placed firmly on his shoulders, willingly agreed. Guests arriving at the center were aurally greeted by an eclectic selection of music, Jen's alternative world. The next impression was a visual one: Dawson had filled the stage with every wildflower he could find in the state. A simple arrangement of gardenias, Jen's flower (and another gift from Jack), was placed at the base of an easel bearing a solitary black and white portrait of Jen taken by Dawson the summer before their senior year; her hair was blowing in the breeze from the beach, she wore no makeup, but shone from within. It had been a good summer.

Joey was the first of the group to arrive, and sat with Bessie and Bodi in the second row as she awaited her friends. Pacey picked up Mrs. Lindley from the train station, escorting her into a back room at the center so she could spend some time alone with her daughter. Jack arrived next with Andie and Grams and they joined Helen Lindley in the visitor's room. Pacey brought Amy out to Joey and they watched over their playful charge together while the others prepared for the service.

The minister at Grams' former church was the first to speak and was followed by Jack, who thanked everyone for coming. Jen's friends traversed from places as far away as Barbados and Lake Como, Italy. Everyone was invited to the wake, which would follow a private graveside service later that morning. The director of the Women's Studies Center in New York City spoke glowingly of the young woman who started as a volunteer and had emerged as an invaluable asset to their organization. Museum and artist buddies shared their favorite stories, as did the owner of her favorite coffee shop in SoHo.

The final speaker was heard but not seen. The lights went down and a dark burgundy curtain enveloped the stage as strains of Mendelssohn's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" could be heard over the speakers. A large black metal ball was silently lowered from the ceiling and suddenly the room was awash in moving picture images of Jen: a toddler taking her first steps and in home movie footage as the princess at her sixth birthday party; a rebellious 10 year-old on first summer vacation with her parents; a provocative 15 year-old walking into Dawson Leery's movie fantasy world, stealing a bit of his heart in the process; the subsequent leading lady in his next few films; the embarrassed homecoming queen; the high school graduate in wet cap and gown, her curly blonde tendrils soaked against her cheeks as she laughed heartily at Drue Valentine's final prank; the feisty college DJ who loved to rock everyone's world, musically and intellectually with her acerbic commentary on the state of Mars and Venus; the young mother beaming at the camera as her daughter was brought into the hospital room for the first time.

"The only thing more beautiful than Jennifer Lindley," a voice said over the speakers, "was the reality behind her magic. She was a unique original. A life force. You always knew exactly where you stood with Jen—she didn't shy away from the truth, even if it hurt. Versatile, funny, a dynamo of energy when she had her mind—or heart—set on something. She loved without reservation— even when given cause to question that commitment. She was a loyal friend to the end. How do you describe a rainbow? The wind? The smell of vanilla? In two words: Jen Lindley. Who could help but fall in love with her?"

Amy, who had been sitting on Grams' lap, was mesmerized by the picture show and giggled gleefully as her hands waved in the air trying to touch the dancing light. "Mama!" she cheered. Joey buried her head in Pacey's chest and started crying. The figure in the doorway watched helplessly as the emotion was unleashed in the room; the magical effect had transcended into a deeper, cathartic one.

Dawson turned to the light panel and slowly began to raise the lights as the music ended. He watched with admiration as Pacey comforted Joey. He had never seen her this upset. Even at her mother's funeral, Joey had managed to hold it in—there were tears, of course, but they were in control; her pain was hidden behind intense, dark eyes. Years later, at a similar event, it was like all the veils had dropped and he was witnessing the bare naked truth: Joey without inhibitions, Joey unplugged. Though no one else could hear what she was saying to Pacey, something left a puzzled look on his face as he continued to hold her.

The mourners filed out reverently. After the graveside service, Dawson returned to pack up the projection equipment and spend a few moments meditating on the lone photograph left standing among the flowers onstage. He had planned to drive Helen Lindley back to the station, as per her request, but Jen's father had appeared on the scene at the last minute. He apologized for his failure to show, saying only that he had been unable to drive any further and had pulled to the side of the road to let the time pass.

"Unacceptable and inexcusable," his ex-wife said forcefully. "After our sad, pathetic attempt to parent this girl, we owed it to our daughter—out of _respect_, Theodore—to hear all the wonderful things her friends had to say about her. Despite our inept fumblings, Jennifer matured into a woman who was not only loved—but was capable of giving that love back. She was the best of us, you bastard!" she cried as she turned her back to him and walked away.

"I love you, Jen," Dawson murmured in the empty room. "I'll miss you." _I'll miss us._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Pacey stood on the patio ramp greeting visitors as he watched Joey with some concern. Still bleary-eyed, she was sitting at a table with Gale Leery, who seemed to be doing most of the talking while Joey looked off into the distance. What did she say? Pacey spun the words in his mind, trying to find the true meaning behind that simple statement. _You were supposed to come back._

Who? Her mother? Jen? It never occurred to him that the person in question might be him.

"Hey, Pace," a very weary-looking Dawson said as he walked onto the outdoor patio of The Ice House. "Hey, man," Pacey said as he went to shake his hand. He changed his mind midway and pulled Dawson into a brotherly embrace. "Thank you. You did a beautiful thing for Jen…for all of us. That was a very special, moving tribute." "She was a very special person," Dawson added. "That she was. I'm finding it hard to talk about her past tense, though." "Ditto."

Both men stood silent, pondering the day's events, focusing on no one in particular until both pairs of eyes gravitated to the table where a certain brunette was seated with Dawson's mom. "Is she okay?" Dawson asked. "Joey? Yes, of course. I don't think even she suspected how hard this would be. But grief isn't a stranger to her house, she's coping."

"Pace, I owe you an apology." "For what?" "For everything. I've been such a lousy friend. And if Jen's death has thought me anything, it's that I should hold my friends close as precious commodities. Each one of you has been incredibly important to me, so much so that I've written countless pages about our lives and adventures. But I haven't always owned up to my part in the things as our lives changed and the friendship evolved into something else."

"Dawson, you don't have to do this." "No, I'm sorry, Pacey, I do. It's long past due, don't you think? I have many regrets in my life but one of the greatest has to be how I made you and Joey feel guilty for falling in love. Our senior year at Capeside became this drama about duplicity and betrayal; it's taken me years to discover that the true betrayal was mine not yours. I betrayed a friend who needed my understanding and support. But what did I do? I made you feel undeserving of Joey's love. _You_ were the better man, Pace. I was just too jealous to admit it; I couldn't see straight. I couldn't stand to see Joey blossom into this beautiful woman in love with someone else."

"She was never mine." "Nor mine," Pacey agreed. "I can't believe how many times and in how many ways she tried to apologize to me," Dawson continued. "It was so stupid. She fell in love with someone else—my best friends fell in love with each other. I should have been happy for her, for _both_ of you. I was such an ass."

"We were all young, Dawson. We made mistakes—that's what people do. It's all part of the growth process." "You know, I live in this contained, self-involved world. That's what the fantasy world of Hollywood is all about. You are the greatest believer in your own dreams and to maintain that quality you often have to put the blinders on, focus on the track in front of you. I learned to do that early on—but I always had you guys to keep it real for me. It's not the same anymore."

"And yet, strangely, more real than ever. It's not the fantasy you thought it was, but it's the life you choose." "Absolutely. 100 percent." "And we're proud of you for hangin' in there, man. You live the fantasy for us." Dawson offered a slight, surprisingly humble smile. "I have to get back to work, and I don't want to leave," he admitted. His eyes wandered back to Joey.

"Why don't you go and talk to her?" Pacey encouraged him. "I'm not the one who should be comforting her now," Dawson replied. "She's a different person with you, Pace. She's freer with her emotions…and, once upon a time in the not-so-distant past, more willing to take risks…with you." He hesitated before continuing. "Do you still love her?"

"Love is never past tense with Joey Potter. You might try to deny it, you might even succeed in forgetting it for awhile, but as soon as you come within her orbit, it all comes rushing back. It's like seeing the stars on a clear summer night."

It was in that moment that Dawson realized he no longer felt the same way. He had put all of his feelings about Joey and their relationship into his films. The Joey Potter he once knew was only alive for him in a fictional world, where her smile dazzled, her anger bristled and her moods came and went with the fictional tides. He wasn't sure how much he knew about the woman in front of him, but he knew Pacey did. He had always known.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

There's nothing like a contrary example to show you what you need to do, Pacey thought as he walked into the kitchen. He didn't expect the opportunity to present itself so quickly. Joey absent-mindedly followed him into the kitchen looking for serving utensils. "Feeling any better?" Pacey inquired. "Well, certainly not worse," she said. "Sorry about the crying on your shoulder thing." Pacey said nothing. Joey, suddenly aware of the weighted silence between them, looked up. "What's going on in that head of yours?" she asked.

Pacey took a determined breath and pronounced the words he knew would change his life, for better or worse. "You're off the hook," he said.

"What?"

Say it now—just get it out. "I've never really put much faith in all that 'if you love someone, set them free' crap, as evidenced by everything I've done in my life up to this very moment, but I am determined to be happy, Joey. Happy in this life," Pacey said. "And I love you. I have always, always loved you. But our timing has just never been right, and, the way I figure it, time is no man's friend. So I have to get right with that and be happy…now. Because this is it. I mean, this is all that we get."

"Pacey, I…"

"Actually, um, hold on. I'm not done yet. Because I also want for you to be happy. It's really important for me that you be happy. So I want you to be with someone…who can be a part of the life that you want for yourself. I want you to be with someone who makes you feel like I feel when I'm with you." He looked at Joey intently. She appeared stricken—on the verge of a response but stuck on the proper vocabulary, her feet welded to the floor preventing flight. "So I guess the point to this long run-on sentence that's been the last ten years of our lives is just that the simple act of being in love with you is enough for me," Pacey continued. "So you're off the hook."

The quarter dropped into the meter and Joey's words came pouring out. "You know, for the record, I don't want to be let off the hook," she entreated, much to Pacey's surprise. "Because everything in my life that I've done has led me here—right now, and the last thing I want, need or deserve is to be let off somebody's hook."

"Please don't miss my point."

"And don't miss mine. I love you Pacey, you know that—and I love Dawson, I always have. He's tied to my childhood and it's a love that is pure and eternally innocent. My love for you isn't tied to anything, it never has been. It's been about a woman in love with a man, and it's very real. So real that it's kept me moving, mostly running from it, never ready for it." She paused as her tears threatened to silence her newfound voice. "I can't be let off the hook because I just might get the notion that it's okay to keep running."

Just when Pacey thought he was about to hear the words he had longed to hear for the better part of seven years, real life intervened in the form of not one but two benign interruptions. Gale Leery shared grateful hugs with both, not noticing the unfinished declaration left dangling in the air; and Bessie, usually so intuitive, did the unthinkable by dragging her sister out into the restaurant. Joey looked back helplessly but continued to follow her. She escaped.

Pacey waited for her to return. When she didn't, he went back out to see what was happening. Joey was flitting about the room from one conversation to another, talking to Doug for quite awhile before Dawson pulled her aside for a private chat. She smiled gamely back at Pacey. The former Mrs. Leery watched with interest piqued as Pacey's eyes remain glued on Joey while both canvased the room.

Freed for a moment, Pacey re-approached her. "What did Dougie say?" he asked. "That he's scared. That he wants to be there for Jack but he doesn't know how." "Yeah. This is probably the most important moment of his life, deciding how much he wants to publicly change his life." "He'll be okay."

"Will we?" Pacey sensed her trepidation as she looked kindly back at him. "Jo, we need to talk!" "Later, Pacey, I promise. Now's not the right time—not with everyone around watching us."

"You're being paranoid."

"Am I? Take a look at Jack and Doug over there. Oops…they looked away. Hmm… Then, of course, there's my sister and Dawson who are having the most intense conversation I think I've ever seen them engage in. And Gale Kimble née Leery…another look averted. Last but not least," she turned, indicating the kitchen passageway on his right, "let's not forget the all-too-familiar nods from your wait staff."

"You're a celebrity here, Jo. They're just getting a kick out of seeing Sammy in the flesh."

"Whatever. It creeps me out. Listen, I'm going to talk to Andie. You…" she said with her hand firmly placed on Pacey's chest as if she needed to hold him back. "You stay here. Make yourself useful, Mr. Witter."

"Joey?"

"Later, I promise."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Despite her obvious melancholy, Andie McPhee looked incredible. With her long blonde hair and poised countenance, she had really come into her own as a woman; she was beautiful. She smiled as Joey walked over. "How are you doing, Joey?" she said in greeting. "We haven't talked in so long." "I know. I'm sorry, Andie. You did get my Christmas card, didn't you?" "Yes, I did." "Good. You never know. Things change so fast. Dawson and I only communicate through e-mails these days—that is, when he chooses to answer them." "He's a busy man." "Yes, he is. So he told me that you and I were the only ones who held out on him on that PR thing." "I couldn't believe you did that, Jo. I thought you of all people…" "Well, quite obviously the show is doing just fine without our mugs to grace their publicity kits."

Joey shifted the conversation. "Thanks for coming, Andie. I know it's meant a lot to Pacey and Jack—all of us." "I wanted to be here for Jack and Jen. I don't get many chances these days to show you guys I still think about you. I only wish it had been a happier circumstance." Joey's eyes wandered over to Pacey, who was entertaining Amy with a napkin puppet. "Do you guys still talk?" Andie asked, indicating the man who now had Joey's complete attention. "Yeah, sometimes. The last week, a lot." "You still love him, don't you?" "Don't _you?_" Joey replied.

"No, Joey. Pacey's my first love but not my current one. He's not the one waiting for me to come back to him. But, if I'm not mistaken, he's the one waiting for you to come back to him. Will you?"

"I don't think that an appropriate thing to talk about right now." "Why not? Jen did." Even from the grave she was meddling. "God! Why does this always happen to me?" "Because you're the one they can't forget, Jo. You're the one guys write songs and movies about." "Yeah? And how did I get to be so lucky?" "I don't know. I was hoping you'd tell me! Share some secrets and let the rest of us have some fun!" Joey suppressed a laugh.

"Do you know what I think is odd?" Andie said after a pause. "Do tell." "After all the hyperbole and lip service about soulmates, that 800-pound gorilla in the room that terrifies you so much didn't turn out have anything to do with Dawson. It's the history you and Pacey wrote yourselves." "It's _past_ history," Joey emphasized. Andie placed her hand on Joey's compassionately. "I know you haven't asked for my opinion…" "No, go for it," Joey said. Why not, she thought, everyone else had—someone had obviously mixed a sage advice pill in with the wine.

"Maybe your past has again become your present." Joey gave her a curious, pleading look. "My dear Jo," Andie laughed in a way that instantly reminded Joey of a scene from _Little Women._ "It's time to buck up. If you two have any hope of moving forward together, you must deal with the past once and for all—and then let it go once and for the sake of all. Here," she said as she wrote her 21st century e-mail address on the back of a business card. "Let me know how it goes."

And now they were back in real time. Joey looked at the card thoughtfully. "Can we talk about _your_ love life now, McPhee?" she whined comically. "Who's this guy in Boston?"

**zzzzzzzzzz**

After making a call to his girlfriend, Rebecca, a patient sort who was waiting in Los Angeles for him to keep at least one of their scheduled dates, Dawson had offered to take Andie to the train station. Things were already returning to normal. Too normal. As Andie was saying goodbye to everyone, Pacey observed Joey trying to discreetly exit the wake. Damn! She's doing it again, he thought. With resigned frustration, he busied himself with pleasing his friends and guests as the wake began to wind down and people departed in different Capesidian directions.

An hour later, when the last of the mourners had left, he dismissed his staff and began locking up the restaurant. One mourner, unseen by many, remained behind. True to her word, Joey had returned and was now seated at a dimly-lit corner table as she mulled things over a glass of wine.

"I was looking for you," Pacey said. "You kind of disappeared for awhile. Where did you go?"

"I went home. I had to get something. Sorry, Pace, it took me longer than I thought to retrieve it. I had to battle some demons who were determined to erase this memory."

Joey fiddled with a light blue envelope. There seemed to be no markings on it. But as Pacey got closer he could see his name written in her distinctive long-hand, there as plain as day, correctly centered on the front. Seeing that his attention had been captured by the envelope, Joey nervously tapped it several times against the table.

"Jo? What's this?"

"It's a letter."

He sat down next to her. "I can see that. I can also see that it's not addressed and that the envelope has my name on it. Are you the personal messenger?"

"Pace, it's a letter I wrote awhile back. I never sent it because…um…I started writing it the day after the Milton semi-formal. The last dance you and I attended. Remember?" she said unsurely, as if she needed to remind him. They had gone to the dance as chaperones to appease a nervous father, Joey's prickly student advisor, about his teenage daughter. "I felt I needed to own up to some things…you know. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like I would be rubbing salt in the wound and that maybe I should just leave things as they were. So I've kept it in my lock box…" She stopped for a moment in thought, "…along with your ring."

"May I read it now?" he asked gently.

"If we're ever going to have an honest relationship, Pace…Yes, I think you should." He opened the envelope and pulled out two folded pages of blue stationery. He delicately unfolded the first page with Joey's monogram embossed on top. Joey looked at him anxiously; Pacey smiled and put his hand in hers, then began to read.

_My love,_

_I haven't said those words in a long time. It feels so good to say them again—to you. I know you won't believe me after what I told you last night, but those are two very important words between you and me, between us. My love. Perhaps you don't think I have a right to say so._

_Pacey, you are the most amazing person and I wish that meant that I could foresee a brilliant future together. You're right, I am scared. Of us. Of our history. Of a past that went horribly wrong. It's a nice idea, starting with a clean slate. I'm not quite sure how to accomplish that. I love you so much that I don't think I could bear to see the Potter-Witter connection implode again. Watching you fall out of love with me nearly did me in the first time._

_When Eddie first showed up, I told him it was over between he and I and that I had moved on. Yes, there was something unfinished between us, but that was just an excuse. It was not nearly as compelling as the unfinished business I was contemplating with you. Last night, you told me that you thought this might be it. The terrifying thing that I am willing to admit now, with a safe distance between us, is that I was feeling the same thing._

_The dance was my—our—undoing. The high school gym decorated like Rent-a-Knight's Tale, the litany of corsages, the excess anti-perspirant, the uncorrupted punch bowl…everything reminded me of a much more notable event two years ago._

_I couldn't make jokes about it and I couldn't shake it, Pace. I'm sorry. I can't say that enough. I'm sorry. The history overwhelmed me. And it wasn't just about making myself vulnerable to being hurt—or loved—again. There are certain life-altering events that follow you through life. Senior Prom ranks in my Top 3._

_You're vulnerable, too. Can you honestly say that the history doesn't dog you? We have a tremendous capacity to hurt each other because we love._

_So I'm calling a moratorium._

_I'm sorry I was a coward and ran away. You deserve to be happy, Pace. We both do. I wish I could be the one to make that happen for you, but I don't think we'll find true happiness clinging to each other. We have to make our own way in the world—face the 'everything else' that has always mystified us. Maybe we'll find our back to each other, maybe we won't. I hope that we can still be friends. _

_Whatever happens, I will always carry you with me in my heart._

_Because_

_I remember everything,_

_my love._

_Jo_

Pacey folded the letter back up and replaced it in the envelope. He said nothing for some time, an eternity in Joey's mind, and quietly considered his hand intertwined with hers. She felt a slight squeeze—or was it an involuntary reflex? Her eyes darted back and forth as she tried to read his eyes, as if that had ever been easy. Finally, his gaze met hers and Pacey looked warmly into Joey's eyes.

"Where's the ring?" he asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "What?" "You said this letter had been Fort Knoxed along with my ring." "Oh," she smiled, pointing to her third finger, right hand. "I kinda put it back on after a talk I had with Jen…" Tears began to well in her eyes…and his. Pacey took her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing them across the simple gold band.

"I never fell out of love with you, Jo," he said. "I just needed you to think that so that you would move on." "Was it so necessary for me to move on without you?" His hand caressed her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, it was. But you couldn't see that. You had this whole fantastic life laid out before you that I couldn't be part of." "And yet you found a way to do exactly that, Pacey. You ended up in Boston anyway and we were better friends than ever."

"Friends. And don't think that wasn't difficult!" "Do you think it was any easier for me? To have my 'friend' become involved with my roommate?" "That was probably a mistake," he admitted, "even though you did give us your 'blessing'." "I didn't want to stand in the way, if that's what you and Audrey wanted, " she said. "I was being a bit of a romantic cavalier myself at the time." "Ah, yes. The professor. The forbidden fruit."

"So is that what Audrey was to you? Forbidden fruit?" "You know what? I'm going to say yes, and let's just leave it at that." "Why? Are you saying she wasn't?" "No, I'm saying you won't like the answer, you'll just get mad. So let's leave it at that." "Pace…" "Okay, okay. I realized fairly quickly on that my motives had not been entirely pure, that there was a hidden agenda….Hidden even from me at the time." "And that was?"

"To be near you. To provoke you…maybe even make you jealous. To see if you still cared."

"I always cared," she said quietly, almost as if she were reassuring herself more than him.


	12. Chapter 10 cont'd

Alone together for the first time that day, absent of familial or genial distractions, Joey was able to finish her confession about rediscovered feelings and a friend's dying wish. "I didn't come to Capeside a week ago searching for this," she said. "And yet maybe in some cosmic way, I did." "Are you going to let the cosmos take credit for your being attracted to me?" Pacey asked. "Well, something other-worldly has to explain it, Witter. Sea creatures from the deep aren't usually my type." "I was always your type," he nuzzled her. "You just didn't want to admit it." "Mmmm," she responded, nuzzling him back. She stopped.

"You're right, Pace, I wasn't ready before. But this…" She gestured between the two of them. "You and me. This is it, I can feel it," she stated adamantly. "This time I've made a decision free from fear." She turned her face to him and looked directly into his devilish blue-hazel eyes. "This time," she promised, "it's for real…for keeps… forever."

You don't have many of those butterfly moments, Doug Witter once said. This was definitely one for both Pacey and Joey. "So what'll we do now, Jo?" She looked down at the gold band now illuminating her finger and began toying with it. "I don't know. I guess I have some calls to make. First, I have to see if I can get my apartment back. And then…" "And then?" "I don't know, Pace. You tell me. I don't have all the answers."

"Neither do I. But I don't want you to have any more doubts either. Being as we're in the season of discovery…" He took her hand and pulled her away from the table. She looked at him curiously. "C'mere. I have something to show you."

Pacey led her back to his office. Taking out his keychain, he found a small brass key and unlocked the lower drawer of his desk. Joey caught a glimpse of the book on top and immediately recognized some of the mementos scattered in the drawer: more memories hidden away—these were from the _True Love._ Pacey grabbed what look like an aged document from the drawer's side, undoing the piece of yarn around the velum exterior and carefully unrolling the small canvas contained within. Joey's heartbeat quickened.

"I thought I…" "You didn't think I ever did the laundry, did you?" he winked. He presented the canvas to her. It was one of the paintings she had been working on their senior year. A pointillistic depiction of that moment outside Gwen's cabin when she stopped Pacey from walking away, the moment she kissed him back without reservations. "I thought I lost it," she said in hushed tones. "That I lost everything."

"I know I wasn't supposed to look," Pacey said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You were being so damned secretive about everything. Then one day when you went to work… I meant to surprise you by washing and ironing everything. You know, impress you with my domestic prowess as well." Joey arched a brow. "Needless to say, I'm the one who got the surprise. This little homage to Georges Seurat was the only one you hadn't mounted in the book."

She looked away. "I was going to frame it, keep it separate. It was special." He turned her head back toward him. "Joey…" "Thank you for keeping it safe, Pace. It means a lot to me," she said. She kissed him briefly, then lingered a mere breath away with her lips enticingly close to his. It was the first kiss they had shared since Pacey took the liberty of using her to foil the advances of Maddie Allen at the wedding party—the kiss that awakened Joey to the possibility of their re-coupling.

She kissed him again, longer and fuller this time. Before either had time to process it, they moved toward each other for a third time. Passion quickly rekindled in them both as the kiss grew deeper and more intense. Third time lucky. Third time…magic. Pacey felt the goosebumps crawl up his arms as Joey's tongue slipped into his mouth to tease him. She purred softly, drawing herself further into his embrace as her hands combed through his hair. He placed one hand in the small of her back and the other across her shoulder, growling as he began to dip her.

She pulled away gently. "Jo?" "We just buried a friend this morning, Pacey. What are we doing?" "What she wanted, I think." Joey scowled. "No, you're right. We shouldn't rush this. God knows we've waited long enough." She smiled. Thank God. "I should go," she said.

"You're not running away, are you?"

"Of course not, Pace. I told you that—I'm finished running. I just think you're right. We need to sleep on this…and not rush things."

He caressed the gorgeous length of her neck with his lips. "What do you say I keep a promise to you this time?" He turned her around and lowered himself in order to look directly into her eyes. "Ms. Potter, would you like to go sailing with me tomorrow?" "Surely you're not asking me to join your dubious list of conquests on that godforsaken boat." Pacey grinned, making note that the lilt of her voice was tender not mocking.

"We did make a pledge," he reminded, rolling her back into his arms. "And don't call me Shirley." "It's not even your boat!" she laughed. "It will be, my kitten." Joey smiled again. She rocked back and forth in his embrace, the way she used to whenever she got excited. She consented. Of course she remembered her promise. "As if you had to ask, Pace," she said, noting that she would have to call the office and postpone her flight back to New York by a day. Tomorrow would be theirs alone to spend together.

With these plans in motion, she announced that she wanted to see Dawson again. "He seemed a little lost today," he empathized. "Your soulmate has drifted away." "Now that's where everyone always got it wrong," Joey declared. "Dawson Leery is the boy I grew up with, the boy who knew 13 year-old Joey Potter better than anyone else. But my _soulmate?" _ She took his hands in hers. "My soulmate is the person standing with me in this room." Pacey stared at her, amazed.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"I still can't figure out the ending," Dawson told Joey as she approached from dockside. He had been staring at his computer screen for ages without typing a word. "I was so sure the story was going one way…and it didn't. But I think you're right. It doesn't matter who ends up with who…"

"It's you and me together, always. Every Thursday night," Joey said, kissing him on the cheek. "No more life ennui." The couple renewed their pact for lifelong friendship and spent the rest of their time together content to watch Alex and Lily play on the lawn. As the turmoil of their youth was forgiven and forgotten, the memory of Dawson and Joey and who they were to each other had begun to resemble its TV incarnation. As Sam and Colby, they were eternally innocent and blissfully unaware of the future. Their happy ending would play again in reruns. A remembrance of things past seen through the next generation nipping boisterously at their heels.

They were on different paths now. She wasn't his appendage in a stereotypical Hollywood fantasy, and he remained the center of his west coast universe. Her universe was firmly rooted on an eastern coast.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The following day was a beautiful spring day, warm but not too hot; a moderate breeze pushed the schooner out into the bay with ease. As Pacey concerned himself with boat matters, Joey had more time to contemplate the events of the past few days. It wasn't long before she was again in tears thinking about Jen. "I wish I had been a better friend. After all the grief I gave her as a kid, she still managed to be open and real and honest. She had the most generous spirit."

Pacey comforted her. "Yes, she did. She understood the rules of our little clique better than we did sometimes. But she liked you, Jo."

It was obvious from Joey's reaction that she had never been entirely sure of this. "She talked about you a lot in the hospital. About how unfair it had been to both you and Dawson to lock you into this idea of destiny and soulmates. That the expectations of your friends and family made it pretty much impossible for you to pursue anything else without feeling guilty, as if you let us all down. I think she was the only one who believed you and I belonged together."

"I never got a chance to tell her…" "She knew." "Pace, you're going to make me cry again." He paid no attention to her. "Of course, that was on her good days. On her bad days, she still hated your guts." Joey couldn't help but smile. "That's more like it," Pacey said as he wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Okay. Sad and morose has left the train station. Why don't you bring up the libations and let's get this party started." Joey went below deck and brought back a four-pack of imported beer along with a bowl of chips and salsa. Pacey was momentarily taken aback. "I thought you didn't like beer; I brought some nice wine and cheese more suited to your delicate palate."

She handed him a chilled bottle. "An acquired taste, to be sure," she admitted. "But I thought it was time for a change." She kissed him sweetly on the lips. "What was that for?" he asked. "Just 'cuz," she said with the hint of mischief in her tone.

"Do you remember Buzz Hartfeld, the kid I was mentoring?" Joey nodded affirmatively. "I ran into him the other day. He's not a kid anymore, he's 17 and crazy about this girl he met at a Science Fair…" "…of all places," she added, finishing his sentence. "Really." "Yeah, well, he had a little confession to make after all these years. Seems he was a witness to a private tête-a-tête you and I had over at the Harrison schoolyard many moons ago. Says you became his feminine ideal that day."

"Really?" Joey responded, suggestively straddling the deck bench as she moved closer to Pacey. "Was that before or after the picnic at the tidal pool?" "I don't know. We were both so giddy then—who can remember the timeline? No, it was before…before."

"Giddy? Is that what you call it?" Joey laughed. "You, Mr. Witter, were beyond giddiness. You had crossed that realm into…"

"Okay, okay. I get what you mean. But, if memory serves correctly, we were both a little excited." "Mmm hmm," she growled, slowly moving her hand across Pacey's groin. "That much hasn't changed." She continued fondling him; the electricity between them was palpable.

"I thought you were for not rushing into anything," Pacey asked, though he was far from discouraging her. "You know, trying this relationship back on for size?" "I was, I am." "Sweetheart, if you keep doing that I have to warn you there will be consequences." "Finally," Joey said, clearly ready to move forward. "Something we agree on."

They kissed passionately, their ardor returning in waves as two pairs of arms encircled one another in a gigantic embrace, their bodies melded together as firmly as their lips. She pulled herself away briefly and began unsnapping his shorts; Pacey stopped her. "I wasn't planning on this," he warned, brushing his lips under her ear. "It's not my boat and I'm not sure if we have any protection onboard." "Pacey, not to sound like a cliché, but it is true: I am a woman now—I've been on the Pill for years," she said, tossing her head back. But she was also an adult who knew better than to act on every single impulse. "Do you think we have anything to worry about?" she asked.

He moved his lips down the column of her neck. "No," he stated without hesitation. Pacey looked up. "I uh…" Now he was a little embarrassed. How did she manage that? "About other women…" Joey stopped him, silently acknowledging his discomfort. "Pace?" "Jo, you know that I've always been big on protection. Especially after what almost happened our senior year."

She hadn't expected to hear that. Not now. "So you _did_ know," she said quietly after a considered pause. "About the close call? I guessed. Then a few years ago Bessie pretty much confirmed it with an off-handed comment; I'm sure she didn't think I'd heard it."

Joey should have been more uncomfortable about such a disclosure, but she wasn't. It was water long under the bridge and they had been wrapped up in other things at the time, namely a disintegrating relationship. "My perfect boy," she said simply, combing her fingers through his hair. "You took way too much on your shoulders without telling me. Is it possible we can change our history, Pace? Can we be honest with each other this time? I mean really honest." "You drive a hard bargain, Potter, but as far as I'm concerned, the answer is yes."

He caressed her cheek and she leaned closer, boldly slipping her hand inside his shorts. She remembered this. He was slick and hard and fully aroused. "Are we anchored?" she inquired huskily against his mouth. "Of course," he whispered back. Noting the sailboat headed in their direction, Pacey grabbed her hand and led her below deck to the small bedroom in the bow. He undressed her slowly, his fingertips cherishing the feeling of her silken skin—and, as he laid down with her, the warm touch of her body against his; a touch remembered, a feeling no longer denied. They made love tenderly, as if for the first time, yet with the added sweetness of two lovers' intimate knowledge of each other.

"I can't believe you feel this good," Joey said as she moved her hands across his chest, supporting him as he thrust deeper inside. "Pacey," she moaned deliriously. "Yes?" he purred in her ear. "Nothing. I'm just…savoring…the sound of your name." He smiled. He was savoring the sound of her _saying_ his name. "Pacey!" she exclaimed as he rubbed his thumb across her aching sex. Her hands wandered down his back and filled themselves with him. She remembered this, too—that need to guide him in deeper. His long, slow thrusts began to quicken. "Joey," he snarled. "Yes?" She licked around a nipple before grabbing it lightly with her teeth. Another memory reawakened. "Joey! Ahhh…" Her lips now suckled on his breast as she shifted her hips beneath him.

"Jo?" "Mmm hmm?" she sighed into his chest. He pulled away from her, brushing the hair away from her glistening brow. "Look at me." Their eyes locked in admiration as they shifted their rhythm simultaneously, filling each other with their warmth, their tongues mingling, and mirroring, their physical joining. "I could stay like this forever," he murmured, brushing against her now-swollen lips. "Ah, but you won't," she said mischievously as she wiggled back toward him, provoking his orgasm. She trembled in love-abounding sympathy.

When Pacey opened his eyes, he nearly lost himself in the look of satisfaction on Joey's face; her eyes unfocused and lidded, her cheeks flushed, her mouth now curling into a slight smile. She groaned in disapproval when he disentangled himself from her, moving to her side as he gathered a chenille blanket around them. Not quite ready to go back on deck, they cuddled and laughed and kissed like this day was the day they'd been waiting for all along. It was the tomorrow they had earned.

"See," Joey said as she lay in Pacey's arms, "we fit together. We always did." "You purloined that gem from a four-hanky flick," he kidded her. "Who cares?" she responded. "It's true and it's real and…I've missed it." "Me, too," he said, kissing her forehead. "And, as long as we're stealing our hokum from the celluloid firmament, I would just like to say that _you, _Ms. Potter, complete me. You complete me. I am a much better man with you than with anyone, anywhere else."

Joey felt her heart doing flip-flops again; she could barely contain herself and couldn't stop smiling. "WE are much better together, Pace," she added, reaching back and pulling him into another long, leisurely kiss.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Do you remember the first time you kissed me?" Pacey asked. They were still cuddled in bed, his arms wrapped around her as one hand lightly traced imaginary tracks down her right arm; she was on her side with her head resting peacefully on his chest, lulled into blissful serenity with the mere sound of his heartbeat. "At the side of the road?" she responded after a lazy pause. "No…" "Don't tell me it was on some dare when we were, like, seven." "Doesn't count," he said, kissing her hair. "But how nice of you to remember, Potter." She slapped his stomach in jest.

"Ouch!" She rubbed her hand sensually across his rippled chest, then peeked her head up to gaze again into those gorgeous eyes. Suddenly, she remembered and a look of recognition spread across her face. "You filed it away as some weird fantasy, didn't you?" he smiled. "I…I…" She saw flashes of the club in Chatham. The loud music. The tab someone gave her in the little girl's room. "I wasn't myself that night." "No, you most certainly were not! What were you on anyway?" "Nothing…" "Jo-o-o-o," his voice urged her on. "E," she said reluctantly.

Pacey started laughing. Unable to control his mirth, the physical effect of his laughter overtook his chest so completely that Joey was forced to sit up. "What's so funny?" "Ecstasy? You mean, X? Potter, you never cease to amaze me."

"I didn't do it _intentionally!_ I went into the bathroom to clear my head—which turned out to be a really bad idea because daddy's business was being conducted everywhere. My head was pounding and when this girl handed me what looked like a plain white tablet, I took it…" Pacey bit on his fist trying to suppress another convulsion from coming on. "What? I thought it was aspirin!" "Yeah, sh..sh..sure," he chortled. "Just because I got straight A's in school doesn't mean I was always thinking correctly." "I think we established that a long time ago," Pacey added good-naturedly. He pulled her back to him and wrapped the blanket around her.

"So when I walked out into the hall…" "…and saw me standing there. You couldn't wait to jump my bones." Joey blushed. "Jo, you were coming on to me long before you went into that bathroom." "Okay, so it wasn't one of my finer moments. Damnit, Pacey! I had forgotten all of this!" "Conveniently forgotten." "It was the first time I'd gotten out to do something fun since…" "The showdown at OK Corral. Yeah, that was the point. We wanted you to let loose and have some fun. Probably should've said no to the bootlegged liquor, though." "YOU brought the beer!"

"That I did. Though being a responsible driver, I did not participate." "It was a good thing, too, Witter. Imagine the consequences if you had." "We probably would've taken that little makeout session out to the Witter Wagoneer," he said as he brushed his lips against her cheek. "You were hot." "And _you_ were with Andie. It was wrong, Pacey." "I know." Both were quiet for a moment. Joey continued with some hesitation. "Do you think…I mean, was that in any way in your head when you broke up with her?"

"Joey! No, of course not." "I know we apologized to each other and everything, and as time went on…Well…I think it did get mixed up in my dreams and I honestly can't say how much it affected _me,_ subconsciously. Did I spend the next few months holding out for Dawson—or you?" "Jo, I never thought of it that way. Andie and I had this pure, decent relationship and what she went through before, during and after that hospital stay made me realize that we meant different things to each other; we had different needs. I wasn't her knight in shining armor after all."

"You're _my_ knight in shining armor," Joey said triumphantly as she kissed her way from his breast to his lips, where she planted herself to stay. Their arms tangled as both struggled to maintain the kiss without drawing another breath. "God…" she sighed at the inevitable release. "Ditto," Pacey said, panting for air. "So," he queried as the headiness evaporated, "you used to dream about me, eh?"

She grinned naughtily. "Don't get ahead of yourself, slick." "You're right," he whispered in her ear. "I used to dream about you, too. I still do."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

After an hour or so, the couple finally returned topside. Pacey fetched the wine and cheese in preparation for a late afternoon luncheon. "I'm starving," Joey admitted as she put together an attractively laid out plate of fruit, cheese and biscuits. Pacey smiled when he observed that, reminiscent of days of old, Joey remained topless and walked around the boat seemingly without a care in the world.

"You know…if I knew you were always going to look this good without a top, I would have banished clothes on my boatsa long time ago," Pacey kidded as he walked past her, lightly gliding his hand across her waist.

"What? And give up the opportunity to undress dozens of women in your mind when they take you up on your suspicious offer to 'go sailing'?" she laughed. "Besides, I thought it was a fair exchange. I've been tormented by those rock-hard abs for long enough. When did you start working out?"

"When Dougie gave me a card to the gym and told me it was a good place to meet women."

"Chauvinist pig."

"That I am—and don't tell me you don't love it."

Joey grinned. As long as _she_ was the object of desire, she didn't mind it. She didn't mind it at all. She walked back toward the galley, brushing her hand across Pacey's groin as she passed. "Hussy!"

With the banquet prepared, both sat down on the deck to bask in each other's company…as well as partake in some fine wine and cheese. Pacey became contemplative. "Do I make you happy?" he asked sincerely. "Of course you do," she replied without reservation. "Why would you even ask that?" "I mean sexually. Do I satisfy you?" Joey seemed puzzled. "It's just that you're always so quiet when we make love."

"Quiet? Really? I don't remember that." She gazed at him with a look of unadulterated love. "Of course you make me happy, Pacey," she declared. "You make me very, very happy." She pulled him toward her and they shared a kiss. "Well, then. I'm happy you're happy," Pacey retorted with a touch of his former glibness. Pouring a glass of chardonnay for them both, he proposed a toast to the_ True Love_…and a lifetime of insane happiness to follow.

In no time at all, Pacey had to retrieve another bottle of Stagsley from the galley. As the weather began to get cooler, he put his shirt on Joey's shoulders and they huddled arm in arm under a large tartan blanket. Banks of clouds drifted together to create a herring bone sky, illuminated in pinks and oranges by the sun. They watched the sun set over the hills of Capeside and talked about the future. Their future. Pacey announced his plans to buy the boat and re-name it _True Love II._ "It's the happy ending sequel," he enthused. "We could sail the Seven Seas. Who knows what trouble we could get into?" "Sounds fun," Joey responded, melting into him. "It'll look great on the resumé: editor slash buccaneer." "Or wanton knave," he said, kissing her.

It was getting late, though neither one wanted to acknowledge it. "We should go back," he said finally. "Yes, I guess we should," she agreed with begrudging resignation. Neither moved. Pacey looked at the woman before him, her long brown hair pulled back into a disheveled bun, his maritime shirt draped on tanned shoulders, covering but not hiding her, her long runner's legs tucked to the side—and her gaze focused completely on him. There was a profound sense of hesitation between them.

Without another word, he scooted behind her, surrounding her with his muscular arms and legs. He brushed her hair aside and began kissing the back of her neck. "Feel like a little twilight entwine instead?" he asked. Joey turned around and cupped his face in her hands. "I thought you'd never ask."

With the added inducement of wine chasers, this makeout session soon evolved into something more than tonsil hockey. This time, it was Pacey's hand that wandered across Joey's inner thighs, slithering inside her shorts and spreading open the delicate area between her legs. He moved his long fingers slowly up and down, in and out. Joey locked her arms around his legs and settled back into him, taking him in as long as she could stand it.

"Pace?" she whispered in a distinctly raspy tone. "Hmm?" "I want…it…ah…I want it back." "What darling?" "Mmmm. The painting. I want it back. Pacey!" "No, no, no, no," he growled in return. "It's mine." "That's…a matter of opinion," she sighed.

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Besides," he said, adding his other hand to the mix; Joey groaned. "You were giving it to me anyway, right?" "But I never…never did. Oh my God. You stole it." "Semantics, Joey. I just honored your original intention." She licked her lips and pushed back into him, inciting further arousal.

"Okay," Pacey said, taking his hands away. "Hmm?" she whimpered, perplexed by the sudden loss of touch. "I'll make you a deal. First one to say 'uncle', loses." "What?" Joey said as she sat upright and gathered his shirt around her. "You heard me." "You're serious? This is so juvenile." "But so much fun, my lassie" he said, brushing his hand across her breast. Her nipple was hard. "And, by the way, _you_ love it." This is going to be so easy, he thought.

Her look darkened before a grin returned to her face. She was aching all over and felt she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. But as she leaned against him she'd discovered that he was already hard and if he was up for it, she was. "Okay, Pacey Witter, friend to women. You're on." He didn't like the sound of that. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Yes," she stated. "Below deck. Now." "But…" "Now, Pace!"

Joey made it as far as the galley before taking off her shorts and offering herself entirely to her unsuspecting prey. Her shirt was unbuttoned but not completely off; he pulled it further open, running his hands down her breasts and admiring how, though she was thin and trim, her breasts remained full and beautiful. And soft. "Don't tell me you don't want it, too," she said knowingly.

Pacey lifted her up onto the table, carefully suckling her breasts, ringing the tip of his tongue around her sensitive nipples, brushing across her chest as his hands continued to knead her breasts. He licked the outside of her belly button, then slowly marked a fleshly trail down her abdomen to settle between her legs. He spread them apart and she moaned in anticipation, arching toward him. He placed his hands on her bottom, massaging and supporting her as he moved in and began to assault her fiery core. Joey moved her hips in concert with his delirious tongue thrusts, which, in turn, were magnified by the gentle rocking of the boat. The sensation was hot and vibrant and electric all at once. He's really getting into this, she marveled.

Suddenly, she maneuvered away from him. "Your turn," she said as she finished undressing him, his khaki shorts and boxers slipping to the floor without a protest. She pulled him onto a padded bench, kneeling between his legs as he sat down. She teased him with her fingernails, criss-crossing his chest with seductive kisses in all his most tender places—she still knew how to drive him wild. Her tongue followed the wayfarer's path from navel to groin, stopping just short of _his_ throbbing sex. He groaned, she smiled; she wasn't through. She blew warm air across the tip of his penis, her mouth scarcely touching the length. Cupping his testicles in her right hand, she began sucking on them, varying the touch of her lips as her left hand began to satisfy him.

He was damned if he was going to let her know how much he wanted her in that moment. Sensing this, Joey removed hands and lips and slid a bit forward. "Not ready to say 'uncle', Pace?" "Nope…" he started to say before he realized that his erection was now firmly between her breasts as she moved up and down. Damn. She had gotten even better.

But so had he. He coaxed her back up to a waiting mouth, as each tasted their desire on the other. His tongue made a sensuous journey to the shell of her ear, lapping around the canals before plunging deeper. She shuddered, knowing that he would soon be inside her, filling her in ways that made every nerve ending tingle just thinking about it; it was all she could think about now. She got up and he pinned her against the counter, holding both hands as he moved against her. "How about it, Jo? Uncle?" "And what constitutes a submission?" she sighed. "Me inside, you quivering. "Now?" "Now."

"How about a truce?" she queried as she moved against him this time. She could feel him tensing up. "How about a mutual surrender with honor?" he retorted. "Wuss!" "Whatever." "Can I have my hands back?" she chuckled. He let her go and she caressed his penis. "Let's go to bed," she commanded, pulling him along. "Ay, ay, captain!"

They returned to the bedroom and made love with abandon. It was mad, passionate sex unlike anything either had experienced before, the difference not being sexual positions but the intensity of their desire, and love—the need to please and express that love definitively, physically, being the greatest desire of all. With no one around for miles, Joey felt free to vocalize her pleasure and climaxed with such an audible release that Pacey shook in equally resonant ecstasy.

They fell asleep as they were, waking hours later in an awkward yoga-like entanglement that left both of them hurting. Pacey's arm had gone to sleep and, when Joey attempted to get up, her knee refused to cooperate. "Oh, no," he insisted, tugging her back into bed. A mutual massage session ensued.

When the kinks had been worked out, Pacey and Joey went back on deck to make love under the stars. They felt more alive than ever, imagining themselves the passionate protagonists in a Van Gogh painting. "This is so beautiful," Joey exclaimed as she looked at the vast blanket of stars shimmering back at them. "Pacey. You…must…see this," she said, riding the waves of rapture flowing through her. "I can see it," Pacey said, placing his hand firmly on her cheek. He saw the stars, clear as a summer's eve, reflected in her eyes.

_Thank you, Jen,_ Joey mused, tilting her head into her lover's palm. _Thank you for challenging me, for never giving up. For wanting our happiness even when denied your own._

Tears filled her eyes. "Is something wrong?" Pacey asked as he hovered above her. "No, Pace," she said as she lured him back to her, reveling in his warmth. "I'm just so goddamn happy."


	13. Chapter 11: Denouèment

CHAPTER 11

"Denouèment"

"I told you we would have missed a lot of scenery," Pacey declared as he fixed breakfast the next morning. "What?" Joey yelled from the shower. Pacey walked to the doorway. "If we had had sex that first time on the boat, we would have missed a lot of scenery."

Joey thought about the other pleasures they might have enjoyed instead; the things she deprived herself of—deprived both of them—because she was still a naïve virgin terrified of making the wrong choice. She opened the shower door just as Pacey was walking away. She giggled. He was wearing the bottom half of his chef's apron, the top half folded down and the back side open, revealing his undraped, nicely formed buttocks. He's kept in shape, she observed with no small amount of reverence.

She toweled off quickly and put on a bathrobe. No Pacey. He was topside setting up for breakfast. Joey followed, sneaking up behind him. She untied his apron and let it drop to the deck. She opened up her robe and wrapped her arms around him, her warm naked body adoringly pressed up against his.

"Good morning," she said, planting a series of kisses across his back and shoulders. "Mornin'," he replied. "Breakfast is ready." "In a minute," she said as she continued to caress him. Pacey turned around. "I thought you were hungry." "I'm famished," she said before giving him another deep twirling-tongue kiss.

"Ms. Potter, you are going to be late."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

They drove to Boston airport in her rental car. Pacey was behind the wheel, Joey engaged in small talk, anything to keep her mind off their imminent separation. They arrived with scarcely enough time to say goodbye. Joey retrieved her bags from the back seat and dashed to the terminal. Halfway there, however, she turned around and started running back. Pacey got out of the car and met her as she dropped her bags on the sidewalk. "I love you," she said. "Right back at ya," he echoed, cupping her face in his broad hands and kissing her firmly on the lips. "Mmmuah!" his lips smacked as he noisily pulled away with a huge grin on his face. "Loved you then, love you now, love you madly tomorrow. I'm crazy about you, Jo."

"My own personal Neil Armstrong," she said, her eyes softening with happy tears. "My partner in irreverence," he whispered back, taking in her scent as he nuzzled in her hair. "I'll call you tonight," she promised. Joey turned quickly and disappeared into the crowd streaming into the terminal.

She kept her promise, calling from her cell phone the minute the plane landed, then again from the cab. "Hi," she intoned somewhat shyly on the third call. "I was getting worried," Pacey said with no trace of sarcasm in his voice. "I thought you were going to call as soon as you got home." "I wanted to get into bed first." "Oh."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Not quite ready to handle a face to face confrontation, Chris Devonshire went to his cabin to write while Joey packed up her things and, thanks to a friend's generosity, moved back into her old apartment. The change was sudden but instantly comforting. What kept her anxious was her constant need to hear Pacey's voice, the feeling that she would jump out of her skin if she didn't hear from him before lunch…before breakfast, in fact.

If only she had known that her lover spent hours in his office contemplating the spatial dynamics of his phone, waiting for the right time to call so as not to appear too anxious himself. He didn't want to overwhelm her or come off as too obsessive or demanding. But he _needed_ to hear her voice. Pacey made up an assortment of creative excuses for calling Joey several times a day. Their longest calls were always in the evening, and on more than one occasion one or the other or both had fallen asleep while participating in these late-night gab-fests. Joey read aloud to him from the manuscripts she was editing, Pacey reported the latest from the _Capeside Clarion_ or tidbits from tabloid magazines left behind at the restaurant.

"Did you know that it's impossible to kiss your elbow?" he reported one day. Joey tried it: it was true! "Now, Ms. Potter, I'm guessing you just tried that, didn't you?" Joey laughed. "80 percent of all respondents did the same." "You are _so_ in trouble when I see you next!" Pacey emitted a sexy growl. "Promise?"

"Word, Pace, word. Listen to this: 'Most of us move on, press forward, find happiness in things we may not have noticed or may have taken for granted. We take these things and hold onto them dearly, appreciate them with every waking breath.' " She paused to let Pacey digest what she'd just read to him. It was her favorite passage from the new manuscript she was reading, the one she kept coming back to. She continued on.

" 'Then there is that woman, the woman who receives no solace, the woman who is never forgiven and punished for both her sins and his. I grieve for her. She is a shadow of herself. She is lost forever. Her true love was her destruction. Mine was my savior.' "

"Jo, did you write that?" "No, honest. It's from a new writer, Evie O'Connor." "It's amazing. And what she said about true love?" "Yeah?" He lowered his voice. "Ditto, Potter."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

The following Thursday she got home from work early and decided to call Jack and Doug just to let them know she was thinking of them. Jack answered the phone and was understandably low-key. He had accepted the reality of Jen's death, but not the finality of it. He still expected her to come walking through the door or call and give him a hard time about his choice of study aids at school. "I think she's probably out among the deities, challenging the heavenly caste system and trying to negotiate a brilliant earthly comeback," Joey comforted him. "And she feels a lot better right now, Jack."

"I guess so," he said, wiping away a lone, stubborn tear. "When I heard the phone ring, I forgot for a moment and thought it was Jen calling with her weekly update. She used to call it her slice of life from the Big Apple." "Lindley's Human Interest Report," Joey recalled wistfully.

In fact, Joey didn't know it but the last report had been about her. "Jo? Not to change the subject, but what's up with you and Pacey?" Jack inquired on behalf of a friend who no longer could do the asking. "Whatever do you mean?" "I'm talking about the boat that was missing from its slip for a day and a half, and the Dodge Intrepid that Mr. Witter returned to the car rental agency two days after the funeral."

"Since when did you get all _NYPD Blue?_" "Dating the town sheriff does have its advantages—and _you're_ dodging the question."

"Okay. So we're seeing each other." "A LOT of each other, as in head to toe?"

"I loathe you right now," Joey cheerfully chided her friend, still intent on protecting her privacy but equally happy that Jack was in the mood to banter. "Fine. Don't tell me. I just thought you could explain that constant grin on Pacey's face." Joey smiled. Who wouldn't be happy to hear that?

"I love him, Jack. I don't know what to do." "Because…" "We did it. We made a commitment to each other." "Joey, that's great! I'm so happy for you!" There was dead silence on the other end of the line. "Okay, I'm sensing a major qualifier here." _Jen speak. _ And just as she had often done with Jen, she found herself confiding her most intimate secrets and fears to Jack.

"We went out on the boat and I lost count of how many times we made love." "Whoa! Too much information, Jo." "Whatever, it wasn't enough. It's consumed me. And when I can't touch him, I want to hear him talk about touching me. Am I back in high school or what?"

Jack shifted in his chair, leaning forward as if the person he was speaking to was in the room with him. "Let me ask you something, Joey. When you and Pacey first got together, what was it that scared you the most?" "The Saturday morning lineup on television?" "Come on, I'm serious. What scared you—and don't blame it on the potential repercussions within our little social group." "But that was a big part of it. Dawson and Andie were part of it." "Yes, of course. But I think it was much deeper than that. In fact, you told me as much at the ski lodge a year later." Joey fumbled for an answer. "Sex?" "You're getting hot." Joey still seemed lost.

"Geez, Jo. How soon they forget! You told me that the first time you kissed Pacey back that something had awoken in you that you never felt with Dawson, and that it was a very basic, primal thing. You were drawn to him in a way that you couldn't explain and you were afraid that it would turn out to be nothing more than animal attraction." "I was frightened by my need, my want of him." "Yes, you were. And after your summer together you two had forged a bond that proved your relationship was real and not just about sex." "Which consumed me even more."

"Joey, nothing's changed. Sex is a very potent thing between the two of you—but it's not all of what you're about as a couple, and it never will be. A deep breath and a leap, remember?" "Wow, Dr. McPhee. You've graduated _way_ beyond armchair psychology. I'm going to have to print you up some cards!" "Duly noted."

"I love you, Jack, I really do. You've been such an unexpected, positive force in my life. I wish I could really be there for you."

"What makes you think you haven't been?" "I don't know—history?" "I seem to recall a certain brunette who befriended me when I didn't know anyone else in Capeside, who defended me against the Neanderthals who spray-painted anti-gay slurs on my locker, who called my sister every week when she was in the hospital, and who held my hand and supported me when I brought a guy to the prom. Do I need to go on?"

"I can't take credit for any of that, Jack. That's what friends are supposed to do." "Good friends. I will always count you as a good friend, Jo. And love? That's just the beginning between us. Now I want you to hang up and call your boyfriend and tell him he's late. He was supposed to bring Amy back half an hour ago."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

At eight o'clock, Joey sat down in front of her television set and turned on _The Creek._ The phone rang. She was tempted not to answer it but, not having heard from Pacey since that morning, she felt compelled to. "Is this Soulmates-R-Us?" "Hey, you! Turn on your TV. It's on." "Can't do that." "Why not?" "No set." "Since when does the King of the Discovery Channel and Lifetime Subscriber to Comedy Central not have a TV set?" "Since he's been standing in the hall waiting for you to open the door."

She ran to her door as the title theme began playing onscreen. "It's countdown to the season finale and you better not say another word until it's over." "Yes, Mistress Joey. Is kissing allowed?" "During commercial breaks only." "Oh, look! It's Michael Jordan hawking skivvies!" he said as he pulled her toward him. They walked lip-locked down the hall, bumping into shelves but avoiding the aquarium as they staggered then fell onto the loveseat.

"I brought you a present," he said in between kisses. "Shhh!" she whispered as she settled into his arms and turned back to her program, _their_ program. Ironically, Pacey's presence lulled her into the comfort zone and Joey never had a chance—she fell asleep before the show ended. Pacey spent the next hour just watching her sleep in his arms. When an agitated dream state marred that rest, however, he gently woke her up. "You had me worried for a minute there," he said. "You were talking total gibberish." Joey didn't say anything. "Or at least it _sounded_ like gibberish. Wasn't it?"

"More old baggage, Pace," she said with a giant yawn. "So unnecessary to talk about now." "Understood," he said. "Sunshine and puppy dogs. Sunshine and puppy dogs."

But he couldn't help but come back to it. He had let it go at the wake, this time he needed to know. "Jo?" Pacey queried after a thoughtful pause. "What was this about me writing you back?" Joey sighed. "I don't know really. Part of my retrospective puzzle, I guess." "Meaning?" "Pace…I thought we were through dissecting the past." "I need to know, Jo." She turned away from him and let out a deep sigh, then shrugged it off.

"I just never understood why you didn't write me back," she said finally. "You wrote me that beautiful letter and it touched me so much I wrote you back right away. I don't know. Maybe the wounds were too fresh, maybe I said things I shouldn't have. But I thought it deserved _some _kind of response."

"The summer we broke up? You wrote back? Jo, I never got anything. I thought you were mad at me. Honest." Joey turned around, laughing away premature tears. "Now you tell me!" Pacey smiled back.

Joey got up from the loveseat. "So we're in agreement then? No more archaeological digging?" she asked, taking Pacey's hand and pulling him up. They began walking down the hall. "Our past has passed and we are firmly rooted in the present." "Absa-pos-a-rootly cemented," he said nuzzling his face into the back of her neck. "Well, except for Thursday nights, of course." Pacey stopped in his tracks. "Jo, this is your bedroom? I thought it was a closet!" "Funny, Witter. That's no nookie for you tonight." "But Jo…"

She laughed as she dipped him, causing both to lose their balance and fall onto the bed. "You might be able to talk me into a little ravishing, though," she giggled as she began kissing him. "You started it," he purred melodically as he kissed her back, "you go for it." She ripped his shirt open and buttons went flying across the room. "That was my best dress shirt, woman!" "We'll have to go shopping then," Joey said as she lost herself in him once more.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

He'd been thinking about it ever since he got back: how to tell Wes that "home" no longer was Capeside. Home was wherever Joey was, and right now she was in New York re-arranging her apartment to make room for his clothes, his belongings. Weekends, the busiest days at the restaurant, were now reserved for her. Thanks to a top-notch assistant manager, he had managed to cover so far but sooner or later he would have to make a decision: Capeside or New York? Even harder to tell Wes would be his decision to turn in his umpire gear, another casualty of the weekend conflict; Wes would not be happy about that.

"Pacey! Come on in," Mrs. Rinehart said as she opened the door to their home. "It's so good to see you." Pacey gave her a friendly hug. "Good evening, Laurin. I brought dinner," he said, handing her a bag from the restaurant. "Roasted vegetables, pasta with basil and a hint of olive oil and," he said, indicating the top container, "a nice apple-basted pork chop for you." "Thank you, Pacey. You're a doll." "So they say, so they say. Hang on, let me grab the rest of the groceries." "Why don't you go in and say hi to Wes? He's been looking forward to seeing you. I'll take care of the groceries."

"Paysh," Wes said when he saw him. One of the side effects of the stroke had been a partial paralysis on the left side of his face, but Wes was working on it and his speech had improved greatly over the past few weeks. "I th-thought… you had game…" "Change of plans, Wes. The boys decided to go on without me." Wes squinted his eyes, trying to focus on that face. "Wh…wh…why?"

Pacey sat down next to him. "I'm turning in the pads, Wes." Wes started to object but Pacey interrupted him. "Now before you get your blood pressure up, let me say that it was the right thing to do. I'm not going to be around enough and the league needs a full-time umpire. I spoke with the guys at the Ice House and I think I've found two possible umps and an assistant coach. So how's that?"

"Do you th-think it takes th-three people to replas..sh you?" "Well, one's a teen so he only merits half points. But, yes. I seem to remember you using the word awesome when it came to my describing my minor league talents." "Wh…what happ…pened?" "Well, this is the part I think you're gonna like."

How could he articulate the monumental changes that had swept through his life in the mere blink of an eye? He had met someone…no, he had re-met someone…that is, they had always known each other…maybe rediscovered was a better word. Or… "Ah, screw it. I'm in love, Wes, and I want to be with her and I don't want anyone trying to tell me I'm being foolhardy and changing my life without so much as a 'by your leave' because this is it, this is what I want. She makes me happy and, if I'm lucky, I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy so no grief, okay?"

Wes let out a deep, guttural chuckle; his cheeks were red and his eyes beaming. "It'ssss 'bout time, Paysh. It'ssss 'bout time. Sss…so? When do I get to meet this exxx…citing temptressh?" "Next week, believe it or not. She's coming out for bowling night." "Lord. Must be ssserious…" The expression of unmistakable pride on Pacey's face communicated everything, no further confirmation needed.

"This girl…" "Joey." "J-Joey. Oh, **Joey**!" Wes exclaimed. "Ssssammy. She's the one…" "I left at the end of my senior year in high school." "Sss…seven years to work it out. Not bad." "The thing is, I'm not exactly sure everything **_is_** worked out." "Yy-your fear is?" "That this is just a cruel trick of fate. Kismet gone awry."

"Kisss…met." "We tried to get back together once before. She got scared and pushed me away to be with someone else." "And through all of th-that you remained friends?" "Yeah, kind of. When I would let her. It's hard to get close to her without wanting something else, and I know I hurt her…"

"Paysh, do you hear yourself talkin'?" Wes' passion suddenly cleared his speech. "I don't think you're scared about what she will do, you're terrified of what _you_ did. So forgive yourself already. Try an adult relationship on for size. The good news is that you're thinking about this at all. And that fear in the pit of your stomach? Never stop thinking that you can't make this relationship better; you can always do better. But…when things are going well? Stop to appreciate it, damnit."

Mrs. Rinehart stood in the doorway too affected to move. She didn't know what touched her more: her husband's words or the fact that he was able to get it all out without stumbling. He looked up at her and a moment of recognition passed between them. "Now, go on—get out of here," Wes said, patting him on the arm. "Go call your girl." Pacey smiled.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"Whan that Aprill with the shoures sote,_

_the drought of Marche hath perced to the rote,_

_and bathed every vein in swich licour,_

_of which virtu engendred is the flour..."_

Pacey took on a challenge. To keep his mind on something other than what to bring his girl on his weekend trips, he began reading _The Canterbury Tales—_in its original English. So far, he hadn't made it much further than the first two pages, but he had those lines memorized by heart. Someday, he hoped, he and Joey would take a trip to southern England and make that language live again.

England is much colder than New York or the Cape, he pondered. We'd probably have to pack more sweaters…and scarves, lots of scarves…and an umbrella or two. Maybe we could buy those there…get an authentic London Fog raincoat at Harrod's… We should go shopping on Carnaby Street!

Pacey put the book down. He obviously was not having much success getting the girl out of his mind. He went to the door of his office and peered out. "Justin, will you come in here, pal?" Justin winked at the barmaid. The two were in on a bet and he was pretty sure he was about to collect. Three days. Witter had been back for three days. If Justin was right, his boss was not going to wait for Thursday to roll around; he was going to ship out early.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Pacey threw his keys onto the kitchen table and took in a deep breath. Yep, he was home. This is what it looked like; this is what it smelled and felt like. He turned on the lights. Mementos that both he and Joey had hidden away now decorated her apartment. Photos found their way back into frames, Joey's summer journal had been put back in its proper place along with her other journals, and an entire bookshelf had been cleared to make way for the souvenirs from the _True Love._ On the wall near the dining table, a place of honor had been reserved for their painting. Pacey had it framed and brought it with him on his first trip to New York.

For Pacey, the painting represented the moment he learned true love wasn't an elusive ideal, it was a two-way street; for Joey, it represented the moment she stopped running away from love and walked back toward it. For both, it was the wondrous moment they allowed themselves to follow their heart. Every time they looked at the painting together they saw something new in it: the possibility and the angst, the struggle and its glorious resolution, her concern for the future and his putting aside the past…and vice versa. The next moment, of course, the moment after that one captured in the painting, Joey had turned to face Pacey and time briefly stood still in the present. In the painting, they seemed to be heading in different directions, but the reality was that both paths ended here—in this apartment. Home.

Pacey smiled. Time to get busy. He made a list of groceries to buy for dinner, then grabbed the classifieds, which he had already marked, and went back out the door. On most visits, while Joey was toiling at the publishing house, Pacey filled his time looking at possible restaurant locations. On this, his third visit, he was excited to find a couple of promising sites, one near Columbia University and the other closer to midtown. Now came the hard part: trying to seduce investors into parting with their hard-earned cash in order to finance Pacey's dream as a Gotham restaurateur.

That hardly seemed a challenge compared to the private seduction he was planning, a most intimate meeting of domestic empires. He started walking up Fifth Avenue towards Joey's office and took a detour into the Diamond District. Flowers, he needed lots of flowers. Twenty minutes later, he surprised Joey at Doubleday with an armful of jasmine. "For you, madam," he said most chivalrously. Joey looked around at smiling co-workers walking on by, then buried her face in her favorite scent. "Thank you," she said quietly as she emerged from her intoxication.

"I…I thought you were coming tomorrow, Pace." "Yeah. I got bored," he said, teasing her. "Shall we go?" She took his arm and they walked together through the revolving door. Pacey hailed a taxi, kissing Joey softly on the cheek as he slid in next to her in the cab. "We need to make a stop first. There is not a single fresh vegetable in your refrigerator, woman!"

Back at the apartment, the pair moved like clockwork in the tiny kitchen, a team effort that gave the impression they'd been doing this for years. Joey put the salad on the table. "Be right back," she said as she headed toward the bedroom. Pacey turned on the electric fireplace and adjusted the lighting in the room, adding a few aromatic candles for effect.

"I thought I was supposed to light the fires," Joey joked as she re-entered the room, having changed into more comfortable workout clothes. Pacey turned around and with one small gesture took her breath away. It was a wink, framed by his unique charisma, with the fire as his backlight and candlelight dancing angelically around the room; Pacey Witter was definitely matinee idol material.

"You did," he said admiringly. "And…" he continued as he took her hands into his. "In the spirit of season finales, I was hoping you might want to make it a permanent arrangement."

Before she could say anything, Pacey slipped a discreetly-appointed diamond ring on her left hand, ring finger. It was a simple but elegant ring, a one carat emerald-cut diamond framed by smaller baguettes and set in platinum. "I…I…" Joey stuttered. "I have something to tell you, too, Pacey…" He looked up anxiously. Damn, she hadn't answered the question!

"Remember how we talked about my going off the Pill for awhile?" "Yes, and the subsequent Frederick's of Hollywood fantasy evening," he said, taking her into his arms. They both smiled, caught in a wave of recent memories and the best of all possible feelings. "Well…" Joey took a deep breath. "I didn't figure on this so soon, but…"

"Oh my God. Jo. Are you saying what I think you're saying?" "Yes." This time, it was Pacey who had tears in his eyes. "You _have_ to marry me now." Her face lit up with an expression that brightened the entire room. "Yes," she said as Pacey began kissing her.

"Yes, yes."

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"Joey's expecting," Pacey told Dawson in an early morning phone call a few days later. "Expecting? Expecting what?" A beat. "She's pregnant? How? When?"

"In the usual way, dude. I told you we've been seeing each other a lot since the funeral." "Pace, no worries. We're cool. You just took me by surprise. How's Joey?"

"Sick as a dog, unfortunately." "Well, give her my best. Tell her I'll call later tonight."

"Gotcha. Listen…" Pacey paused. "There's going to be a small little ceremony next weekend at Trinity Church. You know, that old church near Wall Street? I know it's a weird request in the old friends department, but would you consider… I'd like you to be my best man, Dawson. Joey wants you there as well."

"On the 18th? Sure… Oh, damn. I can't. I'm bringing our new show to the broadcast executives. I can't get out of it. Damn. Can you do it another weekend?"

"No," Pacey replied, disguising his relief that he and Joey would be free of that potential discomfort on their wedding day. "The church is booked for the year. We lucked out big time with a few extra bills and a last minute cancellation."

There was a flurry of activity before the actual event. Yet despite the cacophony of friends and family members coming and going, Joey and Pacey remained remarkably focused: they were starting a family. Period. The wedding ceremony was just proof that it was real. On that summer day, it would be Bodi who gave Joey away, Bessie as matron of honor, and Jack McPhee, now the adoptive father of Jen's daughter, Amy, as best man.

Dawson would have to content himself with watching it all on a video someone else shot. He could study the face of his best gal, lit from inside and out with a most earth-shattering smile as she walked down the aisle in her antique gown. Or reflect on the image of his best pal as he took her hands in his, two powerful hands sheltering delicate, smaller ones, her voice trembling and then, reassured, steadying. She looked hopefully at him as the simple wedding band slipped alongside her sparkling engagement ring. Rings coupled, Dawson might note, a coupling confirmed by rings. She tossed a sexy wink the camera's way as she walked by—was that for him?

Eight and a half months later, the Witter's first daughter was born; they named her Jennifer Elisabeth Catherine Witter. An ailing Grams was at the christening and voiced her wistful appreciation that the memory of her granddaughter now lived on in both the Witter and McPhee clans.

The happy mother stayed home on maternity leave for the rest of the year. By the end of it, she was not only writing again but had illustrated a children's book. Co-written with Pacey, _Amy's Fantastic Sea Adventure _told the story of two kids and a boat, and the important lesson they learned about finding courage within themselves. Doubleday offered a nice cash advance for the book and, according to their agent, wanted more—they wanted to make an entire series of Amy's adventures.

Mr. and Mrs. Witter were now looking at bedroom communities outside New York to raise their family. The small town environment they had wanted so badly to escape as kids was now their refuge as a married couple.

The circle was complete.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Quote from _"ANIMAL CRACKERS" by __EviePJlvr_ © 2004

A final note: This epilogue alludes to some stories that are not part of the DC canon but are actually included in some of my previous stories (shameless plug, I know). Want to read about Joey first kissing Pacey? That's in "Joey's Beastly Summer". The picnic at the tidal pool? "Lost Inside of You" (PoTL). If you want to read the letters that Joey and Pacey wrote to each other after their breakup, however, you'll have to wait-that one's coming up in "Coda Revisited", where the interpretation of that infamous DJ kiss gets righted to its original meaning! Ditto "She's Not My Daughter" (an upcoming installment will get Gale's perspective on that).


End file.
